Danny's Brush with Death
by dragon77888
Summary: Danny wakes up injured in the middle of the Ghost Zone with no memory what happened to him, or where he is.What happens when a mysterious figure finds him, and Danny is hopelessly entangled in a 4.3 billion year old plot for revenge?
1. Dead Meeting

Danny woke up with a profoundly splitting headache.

The young, 15 year old halfa clutched his head with white gloved hands, letting a moan escape his lips. His brow was streaked with sweat, his snow white hair falling over his toxic green eyes. Danny felt horrible, like his insides had been frozen, reheated and then stirred around with an eggbeater. Danny Fenton, in the form of his alter ego, Danny Phantom, was unsure of where he was. Whenever he tried to recollect what had happened to him, he would cring as it felt as though ridiculously sharp and needlessly long needles were being repeatedly jabbed into his temples by a beefed up muscleman on steroids. So in other words; It hurt. A _**lot**_.

The half ghost could only vaugely remember entering the Ghost Zone through his parents' Ghost Portal, probably to explore the deeper reaches of the supernatural world or something. He recalled passing Clockwork's Tower, but after that, things got fuzzy like a Tv screen with bad reception and a magnet on it. As he looked about, the pain and discomfort in his body ebbing gradually, Danny realized he was lost.

For one thing, the sky was a gloomy shade of gray, with the occational streak of red. Bloodshot, inhuman eyes appeared on what could possibly qualify as clouds, blinking at him, and effectively weirding him out. The halfa hovered over bleakly coloured dirt that was dry and cracked, dead vegetation rarely poking from the soil. A flower bloomed in his shadow, only to wither and die the instant it reached the peak of it's accelerated growth. Bones littered the ground, some bleach white, others charred black. A skull grinned wickedly at Danny, only to have a crevice open up beneath it, swallowing it whole. He could've sworn he saw tentacles and eyes in the cracks shadowy depths as the crevice snapped shut. The young Fenton swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly parched. He had no idea where he was, but he knew for a fact that he did NOT like it here.

As he moved about, the halfa felt a pressure on his body that he didn't notice before. Looking down at himself, he saw his insignia baring hazmat suit torn in several places, glowing white bandages wrapped around him in various places, stained with a mixture of green and red; His blood.

He was injured? When did that happen? And someone had tended to him, probably whoever lived in this decaying place. Danny wasn't too keen on finding out who it was, for obvious reasons. The teenager floated higher, trying to see the land better, and to spot any way out. As he got a bird's eye view, he saw that he was on an island...a floating one. Below the dim skyline, the underneath of the island was a hypnotic swirling ectoplasmic green, a tell-tale mark of the Ghost Zone. So he was still in the specter world, and so that would make this island some ghost's lair. The thought of what sort of ghost would call a place like this home was not a plesant one.

This place made the Frightknight/Pariah Dark's lair look like gumdrops and icecream by comparison, but with equally lacking taste in decore. Broken stone staircases rose from the background, crumbled and disused. Collapsed walls formed a half-barrier around the islands edge, which could be seemingly pointless since ghosts could easily fly over them or phase through it. However, these walls appeared to be there for the sole purpose of hanging depressing and in some cases, rather gruesome paintings, abstractedly painted in fresh blood, ectoplasm, flesh and ash with such attention to detail, Danny was forced to look away to calm his coming nausea. As he looked away, his glowing green eyes landed on something in the distance. Curious, he floated over to it, his feet morphing into a tail in the process as a force of habit.

A black marble collumn rose like a spike from the ground, intricate markings carved into its circumference. Hanging from it by 3 eerie, green glowing ropes, was a freakishly long strip of cloth. On said cloth was a list, with text so small it was impossible to read, and giving off a blood red glow. When Danny tried to read the text, it seemed to flow and swirl hypnotically, making Danny's eyes cross involentarily and give him a headache between his brows. The halfa shook his head to clear it of the possibly seziure inducing font. Danny looked the list up and down, making sure not to let his gaze linger too long on one spot. His eyes rested on the regular, bold and underlined print at the very top of the list.

_**TO DIE**_

A shudder ran up the 15 year old's spine. He was dreading this place more so by the second. Danny's toxic green eyes darted around him, searching for some means to escape. A door, a portal, anything. He didn't want to spend a moment longer in this life-forsaken place.

_Life forsaken...an ironic, yet fitting proverb, young ghost._

Danny whirled around, heart racing, trying for find the source of the mysterious, bone chilling voice. Cold, hissing laughter echoed in the halfa's skull.

"Who are you?" Danny asked, or rather shouted. His ears made a popping sound, and started to ring, drilling a headache right between his eyes. Seeming to ignore his question, the voice continued to speak in a garbled, yet sharp tone that numbed Danny's very core.

_But then, if this place is truely as barren and dead as you claim, what would that make you, ghost who possesses life? _

The unknown voice's words coiled around Danny's brain like a snake. His body felt weak, lame.

_A freak of nature, your soul and body are trapped forever between the neutral zone of life and death. You are neither alive, nor are you truely dead. You have peaked my interests._

Danny's powers failed him. He fell to the dead earth on his hands and knees, and invisible force pressing down on his shoulders. His thoughts were sluggish and murky.

_What are you, boy? Are you ghost? Human? Or are you, perhaps, something more? _

"I-i'm..."Danny slurred, unable to stop himself from answering, his lips not obeying him. "I-i'm the defender o-o-of Amity Park..."

The voice seemed to ponder the halfa's involentary answer for a few painful heartbeats. Then another sinister cackle stuck a pinprick needle into Danny's fleshy brain.

_A defender of humans. As I had heard. A rather curious obsession for a ghost, even for a halfa such as you. Very interesting indeed._

Danny fell onto his side, his entire body paralyzed aside from the occasional twitch.

_Your curiousity of my...artifacts is understandable, boy, but such ignorance to privicy and annonymousy does not come without consequence. This is merely punishment, boy._

Danny assumed the voice was referring to his inspection of the TO DIE list and gory artwork. A fresh wave of nausea and agony spiked in his stomach, but numb as he was, he couldn't even scream. But after a handful of seconds that felt like an eternity, the pain vanished abruptly, as did the weakness.

_Your punishment is met. I would have made you suffer further, but your fate is no longer mine to decide, nor end as I will. A shame._

It took Danny a moment, but he finally managed to stand on his white booted feet, knees knocking together with effort.

"Who are you?" he questioned again, when he was able to speak. The voice hissed sharply.

_Who I am is no business of yours, boy. _

"It's made my business when you've kidnapped me!" Danny retorted.

A dark shadow rose from the ground. It bubbled and shifted, molding into a shape. A floating figure, wearing midnight black robes loomed over Danny. Spiked chains dangled and levitated around its body, from one of these hung what appeared to be an old pocket watch. 4 tiny, ecoplasmic flames circled the figure's hooded head, from which a single glowing red eye stared eerily from the shadows.

"Kidnapped?" the figure inquired darkly, "You are the one who dropped into my lair unannounced, injured and pathetic. I merely tended to your wounds. That hardly qualifies as kidnapping, young halfa."

Danny realized the truth of that statement, but the figure had yet to answer his question.

"Well, if you saved my life, shouldn't I at least know your name?" Danny asked, a bit more politely. "I mean, you talk like you know me. But I don't know anything about you." The hooded ghost was silent for a moment. Then it reached up its black clawed skeletal hands, and pulled back its ragged hood.

The four flames around its head lit its horrific face in an eerie light. The ghost's face was snouted grinning skull, with inch long fangs, hollow eye sockets, and a long forked green tongue. A single blood red eye was stitched forever open in the center of its forehead, slitted pupil locked on Danny's shocked face. Boney horns jutted from the back of the skull, bits of pale flesh still clinging to the bleach white bone.

"I see my appearence startles you, mortal." the skull mused, tongue flickering through its fangs with each word. "You wouldnt be the first."

Danny was at a loss for words. He just stood there in front of the ghost, mouth ajar and gaping. The skeletal figure floated closer to Danny, bone ghost tail wisping. The ghost's mere pressence sent a chill through the halfa's blood.

"This is my lair, the realm where life and death are forever locked in neturality; Limbo." the ghost hissed "And I..."

With a flick of a bone wrist, there was a rumble, and two skeletal tentcles sprouted from the ground. They wrapped around eachother, joining, morphing, taking shape of a giant, fleshy scythe. The blade was black and sharp, the head a pentagon with a skull and crossbone insignia with a purple boarder. Chains dangled from its handle, red spikes running the length of the shaft. The scythe seemed to hover in the air for a moment, before flinging itself into the ghosts beckoning hand. The ghost's skull face twisted into a sinister grin.

"..._I am the Grim Reaper_..."


	2. Happening at Home

Fenton Works; Basement Lab

Sam and Tucker were restless, caffeine buzzing in their system. They paced endlessly back and forth from one side of the lab to the next, the beginning of a rut practically starting to become apparent on the slippery tile floor. It had been over four days since their friend, Danny Fenton, had gone missing after going into the Ghost Zone. He had left with barely a word of where he was going and what he was doing in there, saying only briefly something about a map. Sam and Tucker would've followed him, but the Spector Speeder was under repairs after Technus had trashed it when he and Danny had fought in the basement a week previous. His parents had hardly noticed his disappearence until the next morning, when he didn't come down for breakfast. They had check in his room, it was in disarray like usual, but no Danny. They then called up Sam and Tucker to see if Danny had gone over to either one of their houses with out his parents' knowing. He hadn't. At first, they weren't overly concerned, but as the hours turned into days, Danny's folks had started to worry.

True to their over-the-top-protective nature, the Fentons were currently tearing the town asunder looking for him, Jazz practially pulling her hair out, thinking it her fault he was gone, while Sam and Tucker were left sitting ducks in the basement lab. Danny usually disappeared for hours on end during his ghost patrols, or scouting the Ghost Zone, but when he had now vanished for four days, they were naturally concerned. Made even more so from the fact he didn't leave any clues as to where he was going, or when he'd be back. The half ghost had plenty of enemies in the Ghost Zone that would've been tickled pink at the opportunity to take care of Danny once and for all, as he wandered blindly like a newborn kitten through unfamilar territory. The thought was not a pleasant one. Maddie had gone as far as to think her son's disappearence as result of a ghost abducting him during the night. They pinned said abduction on none other than Danny Phantom, saying they would 'tear that ectoplasmic manifestation of post human consciousness apart atom by atom and get their boy back from his evil clutches'. The irony was almost laughable, considering Phantom was actually their son, and they would-therefore- be tearing HIM apart as well. It was that morbid, unintentional humor that Danny's friends reframed from thinking of at that point.

Eventually, their caffeine induced taste for walk burned out, and the two collapsed against the nearest wall, sliding down onto the floor in an energy deprived heap. Tucker gropped for his coffee mug sitting on one of the counters he had fell beside. He frowned as he found the black liquid had grown undesirabley cold. Grumbling, he put the mug down, rubbing the exaustion from his face underneath his glasses. The African American had developed a taste for coffee after many months of late night ghost hunting, or last second homework assignments. The caffeine helped to keep him awake for the most part. Sam had also taken a liking to it as well, but in the form of Coca cola, disliking bitter coffee and refering tea as 'too girly' for her goth status. It was in the middle of the night, marking the 4th day for Danny's vanishing, and they were quickly running out of energy in continue the frantic search for the missing boy without rest.

"Do you think something happened to him, Tucker?" Sam asked, brushing a lock of raven coloured hair from her amethyst eyes that appeared to be on the brink of frustrated tears. The question was like a death trap in a 8 word package, threatening to blow up in the African American's face should he say the wrong thing. Tucker bit his lip, unsure of how to answer.

"He probably ran into Cujo or something and just lost track of time." the techno-geek finally replied, "Danny's fine. He'll probably walk out of that portal, all clueless to why his parents are spreading a rumor that he was kidnapped by Danny Phantom, saying how they're gonna tear him limb from ectoplasmic limb." He sounded as though he was attempting to convince himself that as well, but tried to mask it with a half-hearted laugh.

"**WHEN** he gets back, he's going to wish he had stayed missing." Sam stated threateningly, as if daring the boy to argue.

Tucker merely smiled slightly. If it was under any other circumstance, Tucker would've made a snide remark that Sam _**liked**_ Danny and vice-versa. But he figured he wanted to live past 15, and was certain he didn't have a death wish, so kept his normally blabbering mouth shut. An almost eerie silence slapped itself into the lab's atmosphere, dampening the occupant's moods. It was so awkward, Sam was practially praying for Jazz to come down the stairs and pester them endlessly in her state of self-blaming-almost self-loathing in fact, but she wasn't **that** crazy with worry..._Yet. _After the first two days, Jazz began to blame herself for Danny's disappearence because she hadn't kept a better eye on him or talk him out of his scouting the Ghost Zone. Jazz was the only one of the Fenton family to know Danny's secret of becoming a half-ghost after the accident in the lab infused his DNA with ecoplasm, and effectively killing him...or at least half way. She had kept his secret, trying her best to help him in any way she could. Regardless of Sam and Tucker telling her where Danny had gone before his disappearence, Jazz had retreated into her room, refusing to come out until Danny was found.

The two sat in silence for what seemed like hours, staring lifelessly into the swirling green depths of the Fenton Ghost Portal. In this cloud of noiseless staring, they naturally were unprepared, and jumped at a sudden, loud sound. Then there was a creak, and the front door of the house burst open, slamming into the wall. Tucker could've sworn there were cracks in it from the force of the sudden entrance. Maddie and Jack slunk in through the open front door, their worry filled eyes lacking their usual enthusiastic gleam. The two collapsed onto the sofa as Tucker and Sam came up the stairs from the basement. The two friends looked at eachother with concern, and Jazz finally took a peek out from her bedroom door.

"We turned Amity Park upside down," Maddie stated, catching Jazz's questioning gaze, shaking her head. "No sign of Danny anywhere."

The words hit their daughter like a blade through the ribs. Jazz's shoulders slumped, her hopeful expression fell, her eyes finding the floor. She seemed to be on the verge of tears until Sam raised a hand for attention. All eyes landed on her. The goth put one of her hands on her hips, the other rubbing her tired eyes.

"I think we're jumping the gun too fast, guys." Sam said tentively, like she was treading on glass. In this situation, she may as well be. "I mean, it's still pretty early to assume Danny was _**kidnapped**_. He could just be...hanging out with...**Paulina **or something..." She had to be careful of what she said, lest she give too much information away and Danny's secret be plopped onto the coffee table dancing the _**Can-can **_for all to see. Sam had to try calm Danny's parents down, but at the same time not infuse them with false hopes or promises she couldn't keep.

"Yeah," Tucker added, "It's only been four days. What's the worse thing that could've happened?" The jumpsuited pair looked at eachother, worry etching deeper into their faces as their imaginations conjured up rather far-fetched possible senerios of Danny's capture and containment. Judging by the panic mounting in their eyes, their imaginations were quite creative and flexible.

Sam elbowed the techno-geek in the ribs, shooting him a cold '_you're not helping' _glare. Tucker swallowed nervously, and started to find the floor rather interesting.

1 Hour later

The two friends were back in the basement lab. After some prompting, they had **finally** managed to convince the Fentons to get some sleep, seeing how it was already 1:45 in the morning. They were reluctant to give up the search for the night, only agreeing to rest after Sam assured them that they would continue later. Now they were fast aleep in their rooms, again leaving Tucker and Sam alone in Fenton Works, wide awake from the anxiety eating away at them.

The pristine lab was lit dully by overhead light, faint shadows pulling in the corners, illuminated by a slight green tint of the open Ghost Portal. Though having the portal continuously open risked dangerous ghosts gaining entrance into the human world, the two believed that if Danny was in trouble and tried to get back through the portal only to find it under lock and key...They would never be able to forgive themselves. Keeping the portal open gave them some sense of hope that Danny would come through at any moment, and everything would go back to normal. Besides, for unknown reasons, ghosts seemed to be keeping clear from Amity Park, despite it's ghostly defender's disappearence and the emotional 'incapacitation' of the towns leading ghost hunters. In fact, Tucker and Sam had only seen one ghost regularly, but even then no fighting or terrorizing defensless by-standers had followed. The ghost was none other than Skulker. What really brought the confusion slamming down on them, was the fact every time the armored ghost showed up, he'd be telling a different spook to stear clear of Amity Park. So either Skulker had gone crazy and decided to pick up the mantle of being Amity Park's spectral defender, or something seriously weird was going down. Something tied to Danny Phantom's vanishing in the Ghost Zone.

"Man, I wish the Spector Speeder was operational." Tucker muttered, once again sliding down a wall to sit on the shiny tiled floor. "Maybe then we could actually find Danny instead of watching his parents and sister running themselves into the ground looking where he's not."

"Maybe we can find him in a different way." Sam said, thoughtful frown pulling at her lips.

"What do you mean?" the African American asked, eyebrow cocked questioningly.

"When Vlad kidnapped Danny that one time." Sam stated, "It was when that Danielle girl showed up. Do you remember how we found him?"

"Yeah. With the BOOmerang." Tucker said confused, "Why?"

Sam sighed in exasperation, slapping her forehead, turning away from the techno-geek in favor of pacing swiftly back and forth.

" The BOOmerang is locked onto Danny's Ectoplasmic signature. It can find him anywhere." She added for effect, "**ANYWHERE.**"

Tucker slapped himself in the face, waking himself from his brainless stupor, jumping to his feet.

"Yeah!" he said with an enthusiasm that had been vacent from Fenton Works for the past 4 days. It had been sorely missed.

New hope burning in their chests, the two friends rumaged through the lab, opening drawers, checking under desks, searching through chemical beakers, scanning weapon racks. It took a good halfhour to actually find the tracking device in the clutter that was the Fenton lab. It had been under a plate of what appeared to be a large piece of fudge, at the far side of the room. Tucker picked it up like it was made of acid. Sam took out a piece of paper and a pencil, and scribbled down a rough message for Danny.

"We may not be able to follow it, since the Spector Speeder is out of commission." she said, taking out the elastic from her pony-tail, using it as string to tie the note to the tracking device. "But at least with this, where ever he might be, he'll know he has to come back soon. Before his parents and Jazz fall apart."

Tucker looked over her shoulder to see what she had written. A smirk danced on his face when he read it, but quickly wiped it off his features when Sam turned to face him, fire in her eyes. Tucker held up his hands, smiling.

"Just wanted to suggest drawing a rough map of the Ghost Zone on the note while your at it." he said tentivly, "You know. Just in case?"

Sam growled, but did so, drawing a sketch of the parts of the ghost world that they knew at that point. Hopefully, it would refresh Danny's memory or at least give him a general guide line of where home was and prevent him from getting lost. She tied the elastic in a firm knot, making sure it wouldn't come undone with the BOOmerangs rotations as it homed in on Danny. Tucker watched her, a knowing glint in his eyes as he readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He knew Sam's feelings for Danny, even if she wouldn't admit it willingly. His disappearence was hard on her, even though it had only had been a mere 4 days. He just hoped that Danny would see it upon his return and make up for it.

"Please you stupidly named tracking device." Sam whispered so Tucker couldn't hear, winding her arm back for the throw, aiming at the open Ghost Portal. "Find Danny, and get him home safe!" Her arm shot forward, releasing her grip, hurling the note baring ectoplasic tracker into the swirling green void.

**Author's Notes**

**Every other chapter will take place in the Fenton and friends general POV. That means the next chapter will be a continuation of Danny's story. Yes, he's not dead. Anyway, In the next Fenton chapter (chapter 4 I hope to make) I plan on reveiling what actually happened to Danny, maybe a smidge in Chapter 3 too. I have no idea how long this thing will be, or even if I'll be able to finish it without losing interest along the way, but I hope to make it until chapter 4, where the big explaination will go down. I had orginially planned for Tucker and Sam to seek out Desiree to wish the Spector Speeder fixed, but I thought it too convenient considering all the ghosts in Amity Park (Besides Skulker and maybe the Box Ghost) are suppose to be gone. Poof. Vanished. Not home, wont leave a message. Etc. So I thought the scene from the Ultimate Enemy, where Jazz uses the BOOmerang to send a note to Danny 10 years in the future, to be rather fitting, useful and nice in the situation of 'not being able to go into the Ghost Zone without the Spector Speeder' (I think they actually could in the show, but in this story i'm making the Ghost Zone like outer Space. That Humans can't go in without a ship or something. Also in the show, you practically never see Tucker or Sam in the Ghost Zone without the Spector Speeder, so there.)**


	3. Doppleganger Effect

Limbo; Grim Reaper's Lair

Danny's mouth went ajar. He gapped at the ghost's proclamation of being Death himself. After the battle with the Fright Knight, Sam had thought it a good idea for him to study up on old legends and myths. Of course, Danny had at first protested, but the goth could be very...**persuasive **when she wanted to be. The most popular legend was the one about an immortal cloaked figure baring a scythe, that reaped the souls of the dying, and guided them to the afterlife for their eternal rest or torment, depending what kind of person they were in life. The ghost had gone by many names; Shinigami, Death God, Death, Angel of Death, Devil of Death, Angel of Dark and Light. But the most common one since the 15th century, was the Grim Reaper.

Practically everyone on Earth has heard a thing or two of Death. But the most interesting fact was that no one has ever seen him and live to tell of it. Apparently, he can only be seen by humans that are on the brink of death, and even then for only a brief moment. Which is rather odd for people to believe in something that cannot be seen. But then, Danny hadn't believe in ghosts until he _**became**_ one. Now he fought them almost every day, and seemed perfectly natural for him. So maybe some **had** lived to tell of the Grim Reaper. It would explain quite a bit.

Still, for Danny to be standing in front of Death himself, who was holding a very, very, _**very**_ sharp weapon, was enough to freak him out just a tiny bit.

"**You're** the Grim Reaper...?" It was more of a question than a statement.

The ghost's face twisted into a ghastly grin, which was pretty impressive considering it was an supposedly stoic **skull. **Death bent over in a mock bow, scythe almost impaling Danny with his exaggerated movements. The halfa floated further back from the God of Death, for safety purposes.

"Indeed, little half-blood." the ghost chuckled, floating back upright. "Perhaps now you will learn to show a bit more respect to your betters, instead of wallowing in arrogance and ignorance."

Danny's snow white hair bristled at Death's snide comment, but clamped his mouth shut. It would be a horribly braindead idea to get on this ghost's bad side...if he had one beyond this wall of hypocrisy. Grim Reaper slid his Death Scythe onto his boney back, and while there was no sheath to be seen, the weapon remained where it was placed, as if held there by an invisible force. The ghost's form rippled and shifted, the skeletal creature fadding to be replaced by a flesh and blood body. He was clamy and pale, ghoulishly so, with sunken cheeks and hollow eye sockets. He was thin and frail, almost sickly, but strong and healthy at the same time somehow. White hair fell from his head to his shoulders, contrasting nicely with the raven black of his robes. The single, blood red eye was still stitched forever open in the center of his forehead, slited pupil continuously locked onto Danny's face as if staring endlessly into his very soul.

Catching Danny's confused glance, the ghost laughed. It was almost a nice laugh, if it didn't echo and resonate as if he was shouting from the bottom of a well.

"You have met a ghost who does something similar, boy." the Grim Reaper said, "Clockwork, I believe."

"You mean the way he goes from a toddler to an adult, then an old man?" Danny asked tentively, unsure.

The ghost nodded, grinning. It was definatly an odd change of pace from the sinister skeleton that had tortured him because he looked at the TO DIE list and his gory choice in artwork. Maybe he suffered from Multiple Personality disorder. Either that, or he belonged in the loony bin.

The ghost frowned, red eye glinting dangerously.

"I heard that thought," he warned, forked tongue flickering, shadows dancing along his now fury coated face.

Danny swallowed nervously, floating even further away from the evil spook. The ghost relaxed after a moment, all sinister features vanishing from his face. He appeared tired, misunderstood, red eye losing it's gleam.

"I am not evil, halfblood." the ancient ghost said with a sigh. "People often misinterpret that because of my obession with reaping the souls of the dying. True, it is understandable to think that, but without me to end their suffering, they would remain in eternal agony in Limbo forever. Rather unfair, wouldn't you say? While I may appear to be evil at times, just imagine for a brief moment, just **what** my job is like. Maybe then you'll understand."

Danny pondered this. If he had to go around the planet and kill sick and dying people for all eternity without a break, he'd probably go insane. He had to give it to the Grim Reaper to keep all his mental ducks in a row for as long as he has, all things considered. Danny nodded, floating back down until his boots hit the charred dirt. He stumbled, surprised. The ground was soft, ridiculously so, almost like mud but without any dampness. It wormed around his feet, and Danny started to sink. Startled, the half ghost jumped back into the air before his legs were entirely submerged.

Death chuckled at the sight, his ghost tail keeping him aloft.

"Do not trust the ground in this place, halfa." he said wisely, "The soil here is comprised of the souls of the eternally damned, and as such they do so hate those who still harbour life within them. When I...punished you for your ignorance and you fell to the ground, you were protected by the very power harming you. It did help that the torment I put you through, momentarily masked your life essence with that of death. But for now, you should remain in the air."

Danny panted, toxic green eyes still wide, staring at the ground that had tried to burry him alive.

"No." Death said, a tinge of humor laced in his voice, "It was trying to burry you dead, boy."

Danny crossed his arms and scowled at the floating spector, getting quite annoyed with the spook's power to read his mind. Death waved a hand disarmingly, dismissing any future arguements in favor of turning to the TO DIE list.

"I saw that you were quite interested in this list, young ghost." Death spoke in a flat tone, not giving anything away of what he was thinking.

Danny nodded vaguely, unsure of where he was getting at.

"Do you know what it is a list of?"

"The thing at the top says TO DIE," the halfa said, "So i'm guessing it's a list of people you have to kill...right?"

Death nodded in comfirmation.

"Precicely." the Grim Reaper agreed, "It lists all those who are destined to die within a year. As you can plainly see, there are quite a few. Every now and then the list will shift, symbolizing when another year has begun or when all the people on the list have been taken care of."

Death tapped a clawed finger to his chin, deep in thought.

"What interests me the most about you, halfblood, is the fact your friends and family were destined to die, 1 year ago in the Nasty Burger explosion. But they didn't. It has never- in all of history- happened before." The ghost turned back to Danny, thin eyebrow raised questioningly. "Care to enlighten me?"

Danny was somewhat stunned. Death was suppose to know everything, but he was **confused **as to why his family and friends hadn't died when they were suppose to. He couldn't really blame him.

"It was Clockwork," Danny explained, "After I beat my evil self from an alternative future, he gave me a second chance to change that future where I was the most evil ghost on the planet. Because of that, I never cheated on the CAT, and Mr Lancer never called to meet my parents at the Nasty Burger, so the explosion never really happened. That's why they're all still alive."

Death frowned. "Clockwork and his meddling with my affairs," he grumbled, "He just keeps making my afterlife even harder with his tampering in the timeline. That's thrice he's prevented me from eliminating you and your friends and family, as was destined."

"Whoah, whoah, wait just a second." Danny said, gesturing for the spector to slow his quickening rant. "The _**third**_ time? What are you talking about?"

Death quirked an eyebrow, clearly reading the thoughts and questions swirling through the halfa's mind. He didn't appear to like being asked questions very much.

"Yes, this is the third time." he said with a slight hiss, "Clockwork has protected you from my grasp repeatedly, since your little antics in the timeline. The first was at the Nasty Burger. The second when Vladmir Masters infected Sam and Tucker with his Ecto-Acne. And the third... Four days ago you went into the Ghost Zone for a scouting mission, apparently. An incident caused you to be wounded, floating helplessly through the spectral world at near death. You were destined to die out there so I went to reap your soul, as was my duty, but Clockwork guarded you regardless. That ghost infurriates me to no end with his ridiculous level of persistance."

Danny's mouth was ajar, ecoplasmic green eyes wide with surprise. He was suppose to have died out there? And Clockwork had saved him, but why?

"Clockwork told me that the Observants had made you his reponsiblity, probably after your first little rampage through the time stream." Death answered his unasked questions grudgingly, "I suppose he thinks you have to live to forfill some greater purpose, or some such thing, so I was to save your life by bringing you to Limbo to heal. But enough questions about that meddlesome old fool."

Death waved a hand, and the ground started to rumble. The soil split open, a large section of stone stairs rising from the crevice. At the peak of the stairs was a pentagon with jaggad thorned boarders, a red swirling energy eminating from it's center. It seemed oddly familar to Danny.

"I believe you call it a Ghost Portal, young Phantom." the Grim Reaper noted, "This will return you to the human realm where you belong."

But as Danny moved towards the twisting mist to go home, Death stuck out a hand, and skeletal tenacles burst from the earth to wrap around the halfa's body, preventing any further movement. Danny struggled for several moments before he finally ran out of steam, and slumped in defeat, unable to use any of his ghost powers to free himself.

"What gives!" Danny growled, frustrated as Death floated menacingly towards him.

"'What gives'," the ancient ghost mocked, making air quotes with his clawed fingers. "I kept you in Limbo for 4 days to save your life, boy. You have not healed sufficiently for me to allow you to leave as you are now. You would have dropped dead the moment you set foot out of this place."

A slight shudder ran up Danny's spine. Had he been **that** injured? He felt perfectly fine, so what was the problem?

"The Ghost Zone is filled with ambient ectoplasmic radiation, my boy." Death said, obviously reading the halfa's mind like a book, "While here, your body becomes saturated with the energy, fueling your ghostly body's recuperative abilites to the point where you can bare you injuries, serious as they are, without burning out as long as you continue to absorb these energies. Therefore, if you leave this place, _**you**_ _**will die**_, regardless to how powerful you think you are."

Danny tried to wrap his mind around the long explaination, and succeeded to some degree. Death was basically saying, that if he left Limbo, he would die from his wounds. There was no if, ands, or buts about it. It was a rather morbid thought, seeing how he was now stuck there with a creepy God of Death until he was back at 100%. Then, his brain seemed to finally process **all **of what Death had said.

"Four days!" Danny shouted, struggling once more in the grip of the vines. "I've been here for four whole days! My family, Tucker and Sam, has anything happened to them while I was gone?"

Death's face twitched with annoyance at the outburst. He clearly felt no love for the 15 year old, but it seemed that Clockwork's protection from his wrath was still holding.

"They're fine, I assure you." the ghost said, once more waving his hand in a dismissing way, as if none of Danny's worries really mattered to him. "One of my associates has picked up your mantle of Amity Park's defender temporarily, until your return. The town is under my protection, as I do guard my interests from paultry threats that I do so detest."

It was Danny's turn to raise an eyebrow in confusion. Death was defending Amity Park in his stead? Why? Then a sliver of understanding sparked in his mind. He already knew that the spook had read his thoughts and knew what he going to say, but Danny said it aloud regardless.

"Clockwork didn't make you do that, didn't he?" Danny said slowly, "You did it on your own choice."

"Of course it was, boy." Death sneered at the mention of the Timelord's name. "That old fool can force nothing upon me. He never even asked for me to spare your life. I did it on my own free will."

"Why?"

"As I said before; I guard my interests." the Death God stated, and with a snap of his fingers, the tentacles wrapped around Danny vanished. The Phantom jogged in mid air to get his circulation going again. "Your deeds have not gone unnoticed, my boy. You have done note worthy feats that have earned you quite a decent reputation, one that had captured my attention enough for me to spare your life, at the very least."

"But why do I interest you so much?" Danny asked.

Death rubbed the skin between his eyebrows, a headache clearly forming there.

"What is this, ask Death a million questions day?" the spook snapped, "You intrigue me because of the sheer number of ancient ghosts you have met and survived to tell of it. You are the chosen of Clockwork, Master of Time, defeater of Pariah Dark, King of all Ghosts, conquerer of Undergrowth, Lord of the Growth, Friend of Frostbite, King of the Farfrozen, capturer of Nocturn, Ghost of Dreams, and jailer of Vortex, Master of the Weather. You have done much more, but these stand out from the rest."

Danny shrugged, crossing his arms.

"I guess, but I still don't see how th-" The halfghost was interupted mid-sentence by a glint of metal in the distance. There was an oddly familar whirring sound, before a hard object smacked him square in the face, knocking him backwards with a surprised grunt. With one hand, Danny siezed the device, while the other rubbed the red indent in his face the technology made. Looking at the thing, the halfa couldn't help but stiffle a groan as he realized what it was.

"The BOOmerang?" he growled, "Where did this come from?"

Then he saw it, a note tied to the arm of the stupidly named tracking device by a greenish hair elastic. Sam's hair elastic, he guessed as he untied the note, eyes scanning the message written on it. His heart lept as he read the note, obviously written by Sam herself.

**Dear Danny,**

**If you're reading this, you HAVE to get home fast. Your mom and dad, and Jazz are falling apart without you here, and something weird is going down at Amity. All the ghosts are gone, besides Skulker, who has gone totally loony. He's protecting the town from other ghosts. Something must be up. But anyway, I hope you're okay. We're really worried about you Danny, especially ****me ****your parents. Where ever you are, please hurry.**

**-Sam**

Danny finished the message, then whirled around to face his host spector. He pointed a demanding finger at the spook.

"I need to get home, Grimy." he commanded, floating closer to the glowing red portal. "**NOW.**"

The Grim Reaper snapped his fingers, the skeletal tentacles once again rising to sieze Danny. The halfa got some small satisfaction hearing the ghost mutter "Grimy?" under his breath.

"Fool," the spook sputtered, "If you be brash in your condition and step through that portal now, you'll be dead. And then where would you be? You family will do nothing but sink deeper into their depression, all because you were simply too hasty."

"But I can't just stay here and wait to get better!" Danny snarled, "Every minute I'm gone, the more my family falls apart. I have to go!"

Death floated for a moment, tapping his chin with consideration to Danny's plea/demand. The single red eye glinted as an idea formed.

"Perhaps you don't need to go yourself, Phantom." Death said with a grin, "Maybe I can arrange for someone else to go in your stead."

"And how would that help?" Danny snorted, rolling his eyes.

A small shock jolted the halfa, the electric current making his hair to friz in a static halo. He felt an odd tugging sensation, and an eerie green glow surrounded him in a dull light. Then there was a blinding flash, forcing Danny to shield his eyes. When the light faded, and black spots stopped dancing in his vision, he opened his toxic green eyes to face...himself. The clone mimed him exactly, and the two gasped indentically in surprise, glowing green eyes widening from the shock. It was unlike Danny had ever done before. It could only vaguely be compaired to the time he managed to dupplicate himself for the first time when he fought Pariah Dark. It was like being in two places at once. He saw whatever the clone saw, but at the same time gazed through his own eyes. Every sensation and feeling one of them felt, they both felt. It was so confusing and overloading towards the senses, it was enough to give the both of them a headache between the eyes.

"It helps that the doppleganger is exactly like you in every shape and form." Death chuckled, ruffling the original Danny's hair with a clawed hand. "Minus the injuries of course."

With a guesture, the tentacle once again disipated, leaving two very confused floating Phantoms staring eachother down. They looked eachother over, their movements synchronizing exactly.

"Okay, I have to admit that this is pretty cool," they said in usion, and blinked in surprise as they reached out to touch eachother's face to see if they weren't some illusion. Flesh and bone and ectoplasmic goo...what teenage boys are made of.

Grim Reaper raised a hand for attention, and seemed a little weirded out when the two glowing eyed Phantoms turned their heads to gaze at him in unpracticed usion. Death pointed at the dopple-Danny with a bony finger, his form once again shifting to that of a fleshless skeleton.

"You will go back to the human realm and pose as the real Fenton boy," he commanded in a hissing voice, "You can tell his friends about where the real him is, if you deem it nessesary, but prevent giving away any ghostly information to his ghost-hunting parents. Make up a believeable lie of where you've been for four days, and act natural, clone."

The doppleganger stiffened, his eyes flashing a bright red, then bowed to the Death God and flew through the swirling pentagonal portal. The crimson mist flashed as the spector passed into it, and the clone vanished, teleported to the human realm to forfill it's creation purpose. Danny saw the inside of the portal, the hypnotic twisting of red ectoplasmic energies through the doppleganger's eyes, at the same time seeing Death floating with his back to the halfa at Limbo. It was extremely confusing and hard to get use to.

"Now," the God of Death said, turning to Danny, a twisted smile on his stoic skeletal face, "I am sure you have some things to asked me, however I have grown **quite** tired with your questions. It's about time you get some rest, and leave me in peace while the doppleman does his work."

As Danny opened his mouth to protest, Death tapped the halfa's forehead with a clawed finger. It eminated a slight red glow, and the ghost boy felt a tingling, electric sensation between his brows, the feeling spreading all along his skull and bones, numbing him. His eyelids suddenly felt as heavy as lead, along with the rest of his body. His eyelids drooped, his hazmat suited body slumped, and before he knew it, he was floating limp in the air of Limbo in a deep sleep.


	4. DoppleDanny Troubles

**Author's Beginning Notes**

** Two chapters uploaded in one day. Woah.**

Fenton Works; Kitchen

Sam sat at the plain dinner table, hunched over and energy deprived, poking her turfwich with little interest. It had been hours since she had thrown the note baring BOOmerang through the Ghost Portal, and still nothing had happened. Tucker had told her to be patient, seeing that the Ghost Zone was a fairly big place to get lost in, and thus very difficult to find your way around. It was only to be expected that Danny not show up within a few hours like she wanted him to. They hadn't told Danny parents about sending the ectoplasmic tracking device into the portal to find their son, as it would only make them think even more so of their theroy of Danny Phantom having abducted him. They did tell Jazz though, and she seemed to brighten up a bit, venturing from her room to occasionally ask them if Danny had showed up yet. It was slightly uplifting to see the brilliant girl having some spirit spark in her once again. Now if only the same could be done for the adults.

They lacked all the enthusiasm they once possessed, as if their very souls were slowly being siphoned away by Danny's absence. The jumpsuited pair refused to leave the house, perfering to drown out their worry by doing menial tasks to take their minds off it. For example, Maddie was rooted to the Kitchen, cooking her heart out regardless if the house's occupants were hungry or not. Jack was stuck in the Op-Center, fiddling with some unnamed **device** designed for an unknown purpose. He was so totally **emursed** in his task that the house could spontanously combust, and he wouldn't even notice. It was rather depressing.

Thankfully, Maddie was asleep on the couch at the moment instead of pestering the goth in the kitchen with her worried chattering. She had run out of steam, cooking herself into the ground non-stop ever since she woke up three hours previous.

So Sam continued to prod her grass-on-a-bun with her fork, possessing little appetite to actually eat it. Anxiety, not hunger, gnawed at her stomach. At that moment, Tucker walked into the room, holding his beloved upgraded PDA. He paused when he saw Sam's lack of spirit, and the now mutilated tufwich sitting on the plate in front of her.

"Not hungry?" he asked, sliding into the chair next to her. Sam gazed at him with amethyst eyes that seemed lifeless and void.

"I can't eat," she grumbled, pushing the food away from her, and laying her head on the table. "I'm too worried about Danny."

Tucker reached out a hand, hesitated for a brief moment, then patted Sam comfortingly on the shoulder.

"We all are, Sam." he said, "But Danny can take care of himself, you know? I mean, he saved the world almost four times now and always came out in one piece."

Sam looked up at Tucker, the faintest suggestion of tears lining her eyes.

"Yeah. I know." she whispered, smiling slightly, "And if you tell **anyone** about me crying, I'll rip you to shreds, got it?"

The techno-geek laughed nervously, fully believing the threat. He snapped his fingers, remembering what he came into the room to say. He held up his PDA like a parent holds a newborn baby, grinning all the while. It was kind of creepy.

"I calibrated my PDA to link up with the Fenton Portal's main systems." Tucker explained, showing Sam the new program on the tiny screen, **after** hidding a picture of Paulina that popped up in the processed. ("Uhh..." Tucker said, embaressed, "How'd that get in there...heh heh." ) "This way, whenever the portal opens, and after my orders, my PDA will automatically send the command for the computer to scan the ghost, and find the closest match to any of the Ghost files in it's systems. Neat huh?"

Sam raised an eyebrow at Tucker's 'geek talk', but nodded nonetheless. She was about to retort snidly something about Tucker's love for technology, when a alarm jolted through the PDA's surprisingly loud-sound speakers, startling the two.

"Ghost Alert, you handsome devil you." The PDA said in an exact replica of Paulina's voice.

Sam glared daggers at Tucker, who swallowed nervously, flicking through the technology's program menu, activating voice command.

"Scan ghost and find possible match from Fenton Ghost Files." Tucker ordered, speaking clearly, superiorly and quite annoyingly. The device whirred as it complied, hundreds of files flashing on the menu as it search for possible matches in the ghost's ectoplasmic signature.

"Match found, sweet cakes." The Paulina AI said a moment later, " Ecto signature is 90% match with a known file in the database. Possiblity of error; 10%."

A file popped up on the screen. The techno-geek selected it, and the ghost file opened. He stiffened, eyes wide as he read it. Curious, Sam peered over his shoulder to look at the tiny screen to see what the problem was. A gasp escaped her lips as the PDA read the answer aloud.

"Ghost ecto-scans link ghost with file name _Danny Phantom, _love cookie._" _Paulina's voice said with sythesized affection dripping from each word, " However 10% of the Ghost's ectoplasmic radiation is of unknown origin, and is not compatable with this file. Possible scanning error. Investigation is suggested." But Sam had stopped listening at the second bit. She stood up suddenly, her chair clattering to the floor as she whipped around, racing down the stairs to the basement lab, Tucker in pursuit.

Sam halted, frozen stiff at the bottom step, Tucker bumping into her from the goth's sudden stop.

The portal was open, and instead of bright green, the energy was a swirling blood red mist that gave off a forboading aura. The light from the colour illumianted the lab eerily in a crimson tinge, small sparks twisting from the portal's circuitry, as if somehow strained. A white gloved hand thrust out from the portal, latching onto the side of the device. Gradually, a second hand stuck out from the twisting energies, followed closely by a familar, pale face. After a brief moment of suspense, a white haired boy wearing a insigna baring hazmat suit tumbled out of the twirling void, and onto the prestinely white/gray tiled floor with a hollow thud, back facing the ceiling. Knowing instantly something was wrong, Sam rushed to Danny Phantom's aid.

The boy was fine, his body apparently uninjured unlike what Sam had first feared. In fact, as Sam turned him over, she saw he had same goofy grin on his face that she had seen a million times before. He blinked his toxic green eyes, noticing the close proximity he was to Sam.

"Hey, Sam" he said in his same clueless voice, a smile touching his pale lips. "What's up?"

The goth immediantly crushed him in a back-breaking hug, squeezing the air from his lungs. For a brief moment, he was stoic still, unsure of what to do. Then he flittered through the orginal Danny's memories and discovered he liked Sam enough to return the hug, which he did. He heard the muffled sobs the girl tried to hide, but unsucessfully, and started to stroke her hair confortingly, almost akwardly having all of Danny's memories, but no experience with his new flesh and blood/ectoplasm body. Such was the fate of a freshly created clone.

"Danny where have you been, dude?" Tucker asked, walking up to the two of them as they separated from their hug.

The doppleganger's mind churned, not knowing how to reply. Grim had told him to invent a believable lie...what was convincing enough to explain his 4 day absence? Wait, he had only said to do that for his parents...he told him he could tell the truth to his friends. So he was going to do just that...well, for the most part at least.

"I have no idea, Tuck." the clone said honestly, "I got jumped by someone in the Ghost Zone and ended up in this really weird place. I only just woke up today. Sorry for the scare guys."

"Were you hurt?" Sam asked worriedly, helping the halfa stand up.

"Not really. It took me awhile to find the exit to Limbo and I-"

"Limbo!" Tucker exclaimed, cutting him off, eyes wided. "Dude, do you have any idea who lives there?"

Danny winced at his slip-up, and was about to reply when Sam interupted him, putting him into frustrated, pouting silence.

"The Grim Reaper, Danny." Sam said, exasperated, making wild, exaggerated guestures. "You spent 4 days in the lair of the Grim Reaper!"

"I know!" the clone snapped before anyone could talk over him. It came out harsher than he had intended, seeing the two friends flinch back from him. His face softened and he internally kicked himself for lacking better control of his actions.

"Sorry, guys." he apologized, eyes finding the floor, "I'm just on edge is all."

Tucker and Sam exchanged worried glances, understanding flickering in their eyes.

"It's okay, man." Tucker said, patting the clone on the back. "You'd better turn human before your parents come down here. You made quite the racket."

The clone reached deep within himself, allowing his imagination to form a mental bridge to his human self, inhabiting the central part of his core. He extended his consciousness to touch his core, feeling the oddly familar buzz of power forming and expanding through his body. Two white rings formed around his waist, passing over his body, replacing the back hazmat suit with Danny's tipical white and red shirt, with baggy blue jeans. His eyes turned a calm, icy blue, swapping out with the ectoplasmic green ones, and his white hair darkened to raven black. After several heart beats, Dopple-Danny Phantom was now Dopple- Danny **Fenton.**

Just in time, too. For Jack and Maddie Fenton barreled down the stairs the instant the clone turned human. The jumpsuited pair took one looked at Danny, then jumped on him in a flurry of hugs. Maddie had tears running down her face, sobbing uncontrollably, the overwelming scent of cookies and cupcakes hanging on her in a tantalizing cloud. Jack on the other hand was covered head-to-toe in green ectoplasmic goo, making it very unpleasent to be hugged by him. However, after four days of not seeing them, the clone with the mermories and traits of Danny Fenton was happy to have this contact, regardless if they were practically breaking his ribs.

"Danny!" his mother cried, kissing his cheek, causing his face to flush with embaressment. "My baby boy, you're alright!"

"Princess, come down to the lab!" Jack called to Jazz, almost childish tears streaming from his eyes, "Your brother's home!"

There was a loud slam, and heavy running footsteps, and Jazz flung herself down the stairs and into Danny's arms, orange hair frizzed up from lack of brushing, eyes red from crying.

The clone felt a pang of sadness. These people honestly believed that he was really their Danny. He felt guilty that he had infused them with false happiness. They would be so hurt if they discovered the truth that he was just a clone, created to keep them off the Grim Reaper's back until the orignal had recovered from his fight with...

The clone paused. He could remember what happened to the true Danny. How was this possible? Was it, perhaps, Danny's injuries that kept him from recalling his attacker? The doppleganger had all of Danny's memories, but none of his wounds. Was this why he could remember? What **had** happened? Dopple-Danny blocked out all other distractions, time seeming to stop while he focused singularly on recollecting the events over the original's trip to the Ghost Zone.

Flash Back; Ghost Zone, 4 Days Ago

_ "Gah!" Danny exclaimed, slapping himself in the forehead with a white-gloved hand. "Now I know I'm lost! I hate this place!"_

_ He floated aimlessly through the swirling green void, trying a number of hovering doors to see where they lead. After almost getting eaten by flying kitchen utensils, the halfa sat down on a small, basketball-court-sized island to rest, thoroughly exausted. He had pasted Clockwork's tower hours ago, wandering into unfamilar territory where he quickly lost his sense of direction, and was now lacking any idea where he was, or how to get back home. He must have fallen asleep for a moment, because he jerked himself into awareness at a sudden sound coming from behind him._

_ "Lost, are we?" a mocking voice chided._

_ Danny stood and whirled around to face the speaker. Almost immediantly, he scowled, lips pulling back to snarl;_

_ "Fruitloop,"_

_ Vlad Plasmius floated behind him, arms crossed, shoulders slack, grin cocky and snid. The picture of arrogance. Plasmius landed on the island, cape billowing in non-existent wind, looking much the vampire with his pale skin, pointed ears and sharp fangs._

_ "Hey cheesehead," Danny said, humor laced in his voice, "Did you hear? There's a new Ghost law; All ghosts' hair must obey the laws of gravity."_

_ Vlad frowned, red eyes narrowing, folding his arms behind his back._

_ "Yes, how amusing, Daniel." he said boredly, "But what are you doing here?_

_ "I could ask you the same question, Vlad." Danny growled, "Spill. What do you want? Marry my mom, kill my dad, try to kill me, or are you just going to stand there all day?"_

_ "I just happened to be in the area when I saw you moping around." Vlad stated, "That hardly means I want something from you."_

_ Danny laugh humorlessly at his arch-enemy, shifting into a battle stance._

_ "Trust me, whenever I see your ugly mug, you're always up to something, Vlad." Danny said, "Oh, and how's 'Maddie' by the way?"_

_ Vlad scowled, fangs bared. He detested it when the younger halfa brought up his cat, obsessivly named Maddie, after Danny's mother. Vlad charged up a pink energy blast behind his back, hidden from Danny's sight._

_ "Fine." he snarled, "How's that goth girl you love. Sam, isn't it?"_

_ He got the satisfaction of seeing the young spook's face going entirely red with a mad blush. He looked like he was related to a tomato, the way his face lit up like a christmas-light. A visious, almost animalistic growl rippled from Danny's throat, preparing to unleash his Ghostly Wail on the billionaire._

_ Bickerings between the two halfa's usually followed similar paths, childish insults piling ontop one another until they finally exploded, and assulted eachother until one of them was the victor. These fights rarely had a winner, someone often interupting them before it was resolved, but out in the middle of nowhere...interuption was unlikely. The tension between the two hybrids was extra tentive today, Vlad having little patience for Danny's taunts after a failed attempt to steal a very powerful item, and Danny was not in the mood for Vlad's arrogance, having wandered the Ghost Zone for hours and was now offically lost. It took very little motivation to get the two at eachother's throats._

Fenton Works; Basement Lab Present Time

The fight between the two halfas had lasted for around a halfhour, of exchanging blows and ecto blasts, until Vlad managed to get off a cheap shot. His accomplise, the Fight Knight, snuck up on his foe and blasted him in the back, flinging him headfirst into the small island at bone-breaking speed. Danny's imensely thick head and dense bone structure saved him from permanent damage, but caused him to be unable to remember anything after passing Clockwork's tower, and also knocked him into a near-death state. Vlad then looted his limp, bloodied form for a small, obsidian key hidden underneath the neck of his hazmat suit, hanging from his collar by a silver chain necklace. A key that a mysterious ghost entrusted in Danny's keeping a day previous. Danny had no idea what the key was for, but he knew it was important if Vlad had wanted it so badly.

He was snapped back into the present when he realized that everyone was staring at him.

"You okay, little brother?" Jazz asked concerned, blue eyes wide. "You spaced out there for a second."

The clone forced a smile onto his face, masking perfectly his growing aggitation and discomfort towards the one known as Vlad Masters and the close proximity of people he only knew by the original's memories.

"Sure, Jazz." Danny said, the picture of innocents. "I'm okay now that I'm finally home."

"Now that I think about it...Where've you been, son?" Jack asked finally, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Thinking quickly for a lie, Danny allowed his shoulders to dip, and his eyes finding the floor.

"I was abducted by a ghost, dad." he said simply, carefully.

Maddie and Jack were insantly alert, entirely focused on their son with the occasional glance at the still-open Fenton Portal.

"Was it the ghost boy, Danny?" Maddie questioned, "If so, don't worry. We'll find him and tear him apart molecule by molecule with the new and improved Fento-"

"That wont be necessary!" Danny hurriedly assured them, swallowing nervously as his imagination conjured up what being torn apart felt like. Needless to say, he quickly banished such thoughts from his mind. "It was a different ghost...err...the technology one that trashed the Spector Speeder!" He amended, using the original's memories of ghosts that had appeared lately, one that would be known by his parents and therefore believable.

"Aww, you poor boy!" Maddie exclaimed, hugging Danny closer, much to the clone's discomfort. "That evil ectoplasmic manifestation of post-human consciousness held you in the Ghost Zone didn't it? Is that why the portal is open?"

"Er..yeah." The dopple-Danny studdered, going with it. "I managed to trick him and get back home through the portal. Tucker and Sam heard the lock opening and came down to see what it was, and happened to find me...right guys?"

The two blinked, and immediantly nodded, going with the act of Danny's 'abduction' and 'escape'.

"Yeah, Mr and Mrs Fenton," Sam said, "Uh..Danny told us the whole thing. See, the Fenton Portal's lock was glitched, and we think that's how Tech...er the ghost got through and well-"

The fake explaination went on for several minutes; the jumpsuited parents asking questions, and Danny and his friends weaving the lie as best they could to counter each one. Shadows tugged at the lab, and the portal was finally closed after a few moments, shutting off the blood red tinge that had illuminated the room. As the night dragged on, a strange weakness made Danny's shoulders slump involentarially, and a large yawn came forth from his mouth. He immediantly covered it, looking quite embarressed as all eyes turned to him with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"Maybe you should go to your room and lie down, Danny." Jazz said, laying a hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch on the inside. "You had an exausting day, afterall."

The clone nodded numbly, and stumbled up the stairs to where his knowledge told him the original Danny's room was, leaving the others to converse in the basement. Danny opened the door to the room. It creaked loudly on it's hinges, causing a thought to fly into the front of his mind. _I forgot that I didn't do my chores for over a week. I should probably change the Ecto-filter on the Fenton Portal tomorrow before the house blows up_.

It was an odd thought, which the clone barely noticed as it shut the door and flung itself onto the bed. The whole room was covered with a familar scent, one that the true Danny had smelled a million times before. It was comforting. He got himself comfortable, and almost instantly fell asleep, the thought of how the original was doing back in Limbo the final thing that crossed his mind, before darkness engulfed him in it's warm embrace.

**Author's Notes**

** Yay for Dopple-Danny. He managed to fool Danny's friends and family into believing he's the original with little trouble. OoOoOo Vlad has stolen a mysterious key from Danny in the Flash Back, I wonder what it is for. Probably nothing good. There will be another Flash Back in chapter five, where I will show what happened between Grim Reaper and Clockwork when Danny was dying, reveiling their true relation to eachother and why Grim hates Clockwork so much. So in other words, it will be an explainatory chapter, for the most part. Thank you for all the positive reviews. You've given me the motivation to finish this fanfiction, and I sure don't want to disappoint. Constructive criticism to better this story is welcomed.**


	5. Dark Truths

**Author's Beginning Notes**

**Special thanks for DBack47 for his helpful critcism that I will use to futher the mystery of the plot, and better the story. **

Ghost Zone, Grim Reaper's Lair; Limbo

Death was seated aggitatedly in his spiked, gloomily decorated throne. He kept a clawed finger resting on his left temple, using the latent energy he infused within the Dopple-Danny to form a phycic link with the clone. He saw the Phantom's house through the doppleganger's eyes, felt the uncharacteristic unease churn within it's mind. The stoic skull frowned deeply, shadows cast meancingly on his face. The clone was imperfect. It lacked key personality traits and thoughts that the Grim Reaper had sensed would be swirling in the original's mind. But then, Danny Phantom was also acting oddly, not following the perfect personality profile he had compiled from observing the boy a month previous. He was suppose to be a cocky and clueless smart alec, a normal 15 year old through and through. Yet here he was, an easily riled or frightened brainless, yet at the same time observant ghost welp, who irritated him with his constant stream of questions with no end in sight.

Was it the result of brain damage? The spook carefully considered that thought, but eventually dismissed it. Even under cranial trama he should still retain his normal personality. Perhaps it was just the situation he had been put in that spawned this somehow. Death's gaze wandered to the limp sleeping form of Danny Phantom floating nearby. His face was relaxed, but he could sense troubled dreams and memory fragments bubbling below the surface. Something about a key. The web of intrige was growing larger by the second.

The skeleton sighed with annoyance when the clone went to sleep, and the mental link was severed. For the first time in over a millenia, he felt the insufferable weight of boredom slap itelf onto his boney shoulders, pressing down on him with surprising strength. Normally, he'd be up to his eye sockets with soul-reaping, but to give himself some free time to clear up some... **interesting**...questions with Danny that had been bothering him for some time...he had handed his duties over to his multitude of capable associates temporarily. Death rarely did that, as his lackies could become quite bothersome after a long period of time, their ego's sometimes inflated too much for their own good. Back in the Black Plague epidemic in fact, they had tried to overthrow him as Lord of the Dead. That had been a major annoyance, and caused a great deal of plague sufferers to be unable to rest in peace, becoming wandering spirits that traveled the world in agony. That is, until Death snuffed out the little rebellion by **incinerating** it's initializers, and laid the plague victims' pained souls to rest. After that, his followers became loyal dogs in actions, the threat of a painful and agonizing death looming over them should they betray him like that again.

Normal ghosts also obeyed his commands, his impressively carved out reputation earning him a great deal of respect, and awe from all those who heard of it. Even Pariah Dark had shown him a grudging respect, though Death felt no love for the thick headed creature who supposedly ruled over the Ghost Zone with an iron fist. He was glad when all the ancient ghosts banded together to seal him away in the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, after his ambition grew too out of control. He was just one more power crazy loose cannon to be dealt with, nothing more. He had to admit he was surprised when he learned that the self proclaimed Ghost King was set loose by Vlad Plasmius, and thought he would have to step up yet again to banish the fool to oblivion...then the Phantom boy showed up. In his human made ecto-suit, he and a handful of paultry ghosts blasted their way through Pariah's defences to take on the King himself. The victory was not easy for the halfa, but he managed to seal the ambitous ghost back in the Sarcophagus where he belonged. Rather impressive for a 14 year old halfblood.

Since then, Death had kept a special eye on the boy, watching his powers develop gradually to amazing levels in just one year of becoming part ghost. It was unheard of, causing quite a ripple through the handful of ancient ghosts inhabiting the spectral world. The ones that had taken the most interest was Death himself, and his much despised enemy, Clockwork. The ghost had claimed the responisbility of watching over the unique halfa, much to Death's anger. After that, Clockwork had meddled in his affairs repeatedly, denying him his job to reap Danny and his family's souls when they were destined to die, time and time again. His tampering in the timeline-against the Law of Temporal Displacement- had caused the Grim Reaper nothing but grief, making his afterlife harder and harder when the TO DIE list kept shifting non- stop. Those suppose to die one day, would be destined to live the next, and vice-versa. He simply couldn't keep track of all the people that needed to be reaped with the list changing so constantly. It was like trying to pick out an individual grain of sand, keeping your eye on it, in an desert with 100 MPH winds, and multiple sandstorms.

Clockwork infuriated him to no end with his persistence, especially when he deprived him of his prize for the third time...

Flash Back, Ghost Zone; 4 Days Ago

_ Death floated through the deep reaches of the Ghost Zone. No spooks dared to cross his path, locking themselves in their lairs until the ancient spector had passed. His skeletal hand wrapped tightly around the shaft of his Death Scythe, red eye locating his victim. In his vision he could see the outline of all creatures, ghost or human, living or dead. He could sense the poor fool's life force slipping away, yet he was still clinging desperatly to it. With the boy's injuries, Death was surprised he had lasted this long at all. It was either his strong power, or immeasurable will that had sustained him. After a few moments of flying, he finally made it to where the boy was._

_ The white haired spook was floating on his back helplessly, near death, a mixture of blood and ectoplasm pouring steadily from his head wound. Ugly burns covered the unfortunate young ghost's back in twisted marks of blackend flesh. The thing had been hit from behind apparently, when his attention had been on something else. The blood gushing headwound spoke of a hard head-first landing, the multiple cuts and gashes covering his body indicating a struggle. So he had been fighting when his foe got off a cheap shot on his back. An unfair way to go for the legendary halfa, Danny Phantom._

_ Death was quite surpised when the TO DIE list spoke of his death, yet at the same time eager to finally spit in Clockwork's face, seeing how the old man thought he could protect the boy from his grasp forever. But nothing eluded Death, not even the chosen of Clockwork. Still, as he gazed at the dying teenager, he could not help but think it was such a waste of potental. The boy had even helped keep his job manageable, defeating all the ancient ghosts that tried to eliminate all of humanity, which would've been extremely troublesome, considering he would then have to reap over 6.93 billion souls, and guide each, and every one of them to the afterlife. He had defeated five out of seven ancient ghosts, the oldest and most powerful of all spectors, and his power still grew. At the rate of his growth, he could very well come to equal Death himself in power. But such was unlikely. Phantom had all this potental, yet would never be able to fully tap into it._

_ Death pondered for a moment, debating internally with himself of whether or not to let the boy live, before finally deciding it would spare him annoyance to just simply reap his soul, and get on with his afterlife. Perhaps his death would finally get Clockwork off his back for a century or two, before he found another thing to pester him about. That decided, he gripped his weapon tighter, lifting it over his head._

_ "I'll make this quick," he assured to no one in particular, aiming the blackend blade so that it would sever the boy's head from his shoulders in one fluid motion. A swift death, one he had always so generously given to all the countless unfortunate souls he had reaped._

_ Time seemed to slow as Death thrust the blade downward, at the boy's exposed neck. But before he could make the killing stroke, a plainly decorated scythe blocked the blow. Death hissed at the interuption, gazing with all his fury at the one who guarded the dying boy._

_ A ghost hovered next to him, wearing purplish robes and multiple wrist and pocket watches all along his person. He was a young adult, duel wielding a scythe and timestaff, with red eyes, pale blue skin and could qualify as quite handsome, if not for a scar zig-zagging down the side of his face. A scar that Death himself had given him. The two struggled for a moment, the Grim Reaper trying to cleave him in two, while his foe blocked his every move with his own scythe. After several heartbeats, Death broke off from the scythe duel, spinning his weapon expertly in his hand as he floated back. His foe retained a stoic expression, almost void of all emotion as he gazed at the skeletal Reaper._

_ "Clockwork!" Death hissed, his anger almost palpable, "You interfer with me yet again! The boy is not yours to protect while he is MY domain."_

_ "The halfa is my responisbility," Clockwork said simply, "And while he is under my guard, his fate is not yours to decide."_

_ "You are __**meddling**__ with fate itself, fool," Death warned, "It is his destiny to die here and now, yet you still persist to watch over him. The Observants will not be pleased."_

_ "The Observants were the ones who made this boy my responsiblity," Clockwork pointed out, "Regardless, that is all the Observants do; Observe. Never interfering, never doing the dirty work themselves, perfering to get others to do the difficult tasks for them. They didn't want to guard the boy with their own hands, so they forced the task upon me in their stead."_

_ Death snorted, body shifting into his ghoulishly pale, and thin human form._

_ "We both know that the Observants have little-if any- hold over you," the Grim Reaper stated, still clutching his scythe in now flesh and blood hands. "You guard the boy because of your own interest in him, nothing more, nothing less."_

_ Clockwork raised an eyebrow, "The same could be said for you. Why do you take such interest in this child, Reaper?"_

_ "I admit the boy intriges me, but that means little." Death snapped, "It is my duty to reap the souls of the dying, and unlike you, __**I **__don't __**indulge**__ myself with ignoring my job in favor of saving a mere __**child **__from death, time and time again, with no end in sight."_

_ The Grim Reaper twirled his scythe, and lunged once more at the timelord, who blocked easily with his own weapon. Death hissed in Clockwork's face, green forked tongue flickering past his bared fangs. The timelord merely scowled slightly, lips tucked down in a small frown. His form shifted to that of an old man, white beard practically reaching the bottom of his ghost tail, wrinkles forming on his face giving him a wisened look. But despite being in the body of a supposedly frail old man, Clockwork managed to overpower the younger spook, pushing him back with a the flat side of his scythe's blade._

_ "Surely this boy's soul isn't worth fighting over, Reaper." Clockwork said to the black robed spector as he was knocked backwards._

_ "It's no longer about the ghost child, old fool," the Grim Reaper snarled, getting his balance back. "This is about you and me, and how you wont be leaving here in one piece!"_

_ The angered ghost charged a pulsing red orb of sparking energy into his hand, blasting it at the timelord. Clockwork pressed the button attop his clock baring staff, stopping time temporarily as he moved out of the attack's path. Time started again, the Grim Reaper's blast sailing far from it's intended target, and disipating far in the distance. But the black wearing spook was already in front of the timelord, scythe raised to cleave the ghost in two. Clockwork swiftly brought up his two weapons in a parry, and slammed the attacking Reaper, and pinning him against a nearby floating door. The Grim Reaper's Death Scythe fell from his grasp, disipating in a cloud of ectoplasmic mist, ready to be summoned later at its master's will. Disappointment was evident on Clockwork's face, his form once again shifting, this time into a small, buck-teethed toddler. The Grim Reaper knew he was beaten, refusing to soil his ego by struggling fruitlessly in the timelord's grasp. Hatred and fury boiled in his ectoplasmic blood, aimed solely at the blue-skinned Master of Time._

_ "You have much left to learn, boy." Clockwork said with a sigh._

_ "You're a pathetic teacher, old fool," Death hissed, tongue lashing in anger, "And a horrible __**father**__." He spat the term of endearment, venom dripping from the word._

_ Clockwork didn't flinch, his eyes becoming sad. Yes, it was true that Clockwork was Death's biological father, impossible as it sounded. The resemblance was hard to spot, and the two had always been at odds despite their ectoplasm relations. Death had never considered the timelord to be his real father, while Clockwork had merely been stunned to learn of his son's reasonless hatred towards him. _

_ "Son-" Clockwork began, but the Grim Reaper cut him off._

_ "Don't call me that!" he sneered, baring his fangs, "You never wanted me to be your son, so don't bother trying to hide it. I was a mistake to you, an abomination!"_

_ "Son, I never thought you as-" _

_ "Lies!" Death interupted again, "I read your thoughts all those millenia ago. Admit the truth!"_

_ Clockwork sighed, backing off from his son, his form shifting to his adult shape. Death raised an eyebrow in confusion, staring at him with his single red eye, unable to sense what he was thinking. The timelord appeared tired, defeated._

_ "I would love to bury your hatred for me here and now, Reaper." Clockwork stated, " I want to set things right, but unfortunatly I have a schedule to keep and a timestream to maintain. My time is short."_

_ The Grim Reaper sputtered with rage, but something held him back from assulting the timelord anew._

_ "The boy is important to Earth's future and yours. He __**must**__ live."_

_ "You would ask me to __**spare **__him?" Reaper asked skeptically, "For you? Just like that?"_

_ "I am not asking you to do anything," Clockwork amended, his finger hovering over the button atop his clock-barring staff. "The choice is your own, not mine to influence." With that said, he pressed the button, and vanished from Reaper's sight, probably returned to his Tower lair._

_ Death seethed for a moment over Clockwork's words, before his gaze landed on the body of the halfa. His red eye reveiled that his life force was slipping away, but hanging onto it bitterly by willpower alone. Such potental...all to be wasted meaningessly because he was simply at the wrong place, at the wrong time._

_ "_**The boy is important to Earth's future and yours. He **must** live**_"_

_ Had Clockwork forseen something? Was this child really __**that**__ important? Was Clockwork attempting to influence him for his own hidden agenda...or was he honestly telling the truth?_

**"The choice is your own**..."

_ Yes... It was __**HIS**__ choice, not his pathetic father's. He could force nothing upon him. He never could..._

_ Thoughts swirled in his mind, face wrinkled with a grimace of indecision._

_ Would he save him?_

_ ...__**COULD**__ he save him?_

_ Yes...he could save his life. He was the Lord of the Dead afterall. Coupled with the energy rich part of the Ghost Zone his lair was centered in, and the boy's own recuperative abilites, he could make it. But would he go through with this? Would he be responsible for saving the boy despite that it was his destiny to die, therefore doing the exact same thing that infuriated him about Clockwork?_

_...Yes, Death decided...He would do so...but for his __**own **__purpose, not because of Clockwork's senile gibbering._

_ Death grabbed Danny's uninjured arm, gathering a red ball of harmless energy in his other hand. He pictured vividly the decaying land of Limbo-his lair-in his mind, willing the small ectoplasmic sphere to take he, and his passenger there. The ball flashed brightly, easily teleporting the Death Lord to where he desired. With a wave of his hand, shadows grew around him. Bubbling, the dark puddles rose into three cloaked figures; his most trusted associates._

_ "Take this boy, and treat his wounds," Death ordered, tossing the bloodied halfa into one of the figures' arms. "See to it that he lives, for if he doesn't..." The Grim Reaper let the threat hang in the air, getting a small sliver of satisfaction in hearing the three swallow nervously, as they hurriedly complied with their master's wishes._

_ With a second gesture, the ground rumbled, and his obsidian throne burst from the soil. The spook sat in it, slumping slightly, somewhat exausted from the hour's events. Death half-heartedly tapped his clawed finger on the arm of the chair, considering the possible consequencs of saving the boy's life. He had went against destiny, effectivly spitting in it's face. Surely it would come back to haunt him later, something he did not like the thought of. _

_ The gray-red sky darkened with his mood, the earth trembling slightly. Some of his minions cowered at the evident sign of their master's anger, rare as it was in the stoic skeletal Death God. Death felt a change in the energies of Limbo, snapping him from his fury inducing thoughts. With a snap of a skeletal finger, the TO DIE list appeared before him, text growing dimmer as he gazed upon it. Something was wrong. Something was different. His single eye locked onto where the list stated Danny Phantom had to die. Slowly-ever so slowly- the name of the boy shifted, brightness fadding until it vanished completely from the text barring cloth. Multiple names followed suit of the Phantom's, vanishing alltogether, until the entire list had changed._

_ Death slammed a fist on the arm of the throne, cracking the obsidian stone in spider-web patterns, his face twisted with fury. Destiny __**had **__changed! The list had shifted, with it the fate of hundreds-no hundreds of __**thousands **__of mortals! The Grim Reaper clenched a fist, every bone in his body eminating an eerie red glow. Clockwork would pay for the foolishness he wrought, for the deceitful lies he implanted into his mind._

_ But strangely, instead of lashing out in anger, he swiftly calmed himself. _

_ Yes, his father would pay...he would suffer as Death had all these millenia...But he had to be patient, and bide his time until the moment was ripe. Now was not the correct time to succumb to old grudges like a weak minded fool. Something else required his undivided attention. His associates had reported some time ago, that an unknown ghost was aiming for his seat of power as Lord of the Dead. Such insolence could not be tolerated in his realm. Perhaps the ghost child could be of some use to him, be his pawn in the destruction of this fool._

_ Yes, a child such as him could be easily manipulated to his whim. All he needed was a gentle push in the right direction. To do that, a key bargaining piece would be required..._

_ ...something the boy held dear to him..._

**Author's Notes**

** The true personality and intentions of the Grim Reaper is reveiled! Congrats to deets1 who almost guessed correctly the relation between Reaper and Clockwork. The timelord is in fact, Death's father. Because logically, Clockwork-being the Ghost of Time-would be the first ghost ever, followed by Death, and Life. (I.E Undegrowth, who is NOT Clockwork's son too by the way.) Who is the ghost aiming for Death's throne, and why does Vlad have a sudden interest in keys? Also, what purpose the Dopple-Danny serve to Death, and what 'key bargaining piece' does the Grim Reaper intend to exploit, and use to get Danny Phantom to do his dirty work? We may find out in the next chapter!**


	6. The Bargaining Pieces

**Author's Beginning Notes**

**Review Answer for DBack47's comment for Dark Truths- Dback, your reviews have yet to not make me smile. I thought that Clockwork being Death's father would be logically, and an entertaining plot twist to the story, and I'm glad to see you enjoy it thusfar. And you were extremely close to guessing the first climax dominoes that are going to be set up. Are you sure you don't have Death's power to read my mind VIA the computer, or something?**

** P.S- I like the idea of you being my beta reader, and honestly I'm quite flattered, so please take no offence when I politely decline your offer. I feel that to have someone else put their suggestions, or thoughts into this evolving story so close to it's climax would derail the plot, or style of writting, wouldn't you say? I just think that I need to realize the errors in it on my own, to better it later on, and thus improve the overall story, instead of having someone point them out to me, and I learn nothing from it. But please, don't let that stop you from posting chapterly reviews, and helpful criticim to assist me in realizing the full potental of this story.**

** -Thank you**

**-dragon77888**

**Now that that's taken care of, let me just indulge myself by saying; Woah, this story is evolving quicker than I expected. Shortish chapter, I'm sorry to say. I was in a hurry to get ready for the main plot-twist for Chapter 7, and set up the climax dominoes for Chapter 8 and 9 which I hope to make it up to. Dopple-Danny chapter go!**

Fenton Works; Danny's Room

Dopple-Danny forcefully opened his icy blue eyes slowly, pulling himself into awarness, blinking until the world came into focus. He was staring numbly at the dull ceiling, shadows tugging at the corners of his room. That is to say, the **original** Danny Fenton's room. He was just a clone to further his master's ambitions, nothing more. The unfamilar emotions, and unease he felt the day before were null, and void today. In fact, **almost** no positive human emotion what-so-ever pricked at his sythesized brain, nagging at his fake conscious, going against what he was created to do. All the doppleganger could sense was his lord and master's growing aggitation in Limbo, urging him to put his scheme into motion post-haste, with as little distractions as possible.

Dopple-Danny shifted into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the ledge of the bed. He propelled himself off the thing, landing with a thump on the hard floor. His muscles felt limber and loose, easily used to their full potental. The clone knew now that his grip could easily split 30cm thick wood blocks in half, and his speed rival that of the fastest human alive. And all this was thanks to Death's latent energy boastering his very body structure, evolving him to be capable of forfilling his purpose. It also helped that he possesed all the powers of Phantom while in human form, as he discovered when he charged an ectoblast in the palm of his hand. His back went ridged when he heard the sounds of footsteps approching, and quickly snuffed out the glowing green ball of energy, absorbing it back into himself. The orange haired teenager known as **Jazz** flung his door open, creaking loudly on it's hinges. She saw Danny staring at her with cold blue eyes, and froze, unease marked with creases between her brows. Calculating that she was becoming suspicous, the clone easily masked his cold expression with a warm grin, simulating the emotions in it perfectly.

"Hey, Jazz." the doppleganger greeted the original's sister, "How's it going?"

Jazz shifted, appearing to internally debate with herself on some matter. Appearing to have decided on a course of action, she then smoothed the wrinkles from her black blouce, before putting her hands on her hips, an almost sickeningly peppy smile on her face.

"I'm fine," she said, "I just came up to tell you that breakfast is ready."

Dopple-Danny nodded his head, raven black hair falling over his eyes, hiding the annoyance flickering like a flame deep within them. As he moved to walk past the girl, she put a hand on his shoulder, causing him to pause by the door.

"Tucker and Sam told me everything," Jazz whispered, as if telling him a huge secret just between the two of them, "I'm glad you're alright, little brother."

Seeing as no actual verbal response was nessesary at that moment, the doppleganger merely smiled again, and walked past her without a second glance. He stepped down the stairs, landing on the main level, heading into what he processed to be the kitchen. It was pristen and utterly dull to look at, a normal everyday kitchen, and thus hardly worth any notice. Danny's jumpsuited parents were in there already, Maddie serving up some 'Fenton Flapjacks', while the fat orange one was sitting at the table, gorging himself on pancakes, and large pieces of fudge. The discusting sight was enough to make Danny's stomach churn, as he debated with himself if he should eat or not. He actually didn't really know if his artificial body require sustenance from food to opperate, and maintain itself.

"Danny, my boy!" Jack called with a grin to his son, as Danny hesitated at the outskirts of the kitchen, "Come have a seat, son! Your mother made Fenton Flapjacks. They're like normal flapjacks, but with the word 'Fenton' in front of it!"

Dopple-Danny paused for an instant, considering Jack's stupidity, then moved over to the table, and slipped into a chair furthest from his 'father'. His blue-jumpsuited mother placed a plate of pancakes in front of him, smiling warmly at the artifical creature she believed to be her son. The scent given off by the food was almost tantalizing to the clone, but he managed to prevent himself from salivating primally. Showing a degree of self control, he picked up the provided fork and knife, proceeding to consume the 'breakfast' meal. The multitude of tastes, and textures was mind blowing to the clone, having only just come into life the previous day, and therefore unexperienced in this sort of overload of his senses. But his master's orders remained sharp as a blade within the forefront of his conscious, reminding him to remain focused on his mission to retrieve the bargaining piece required for his plan.

Danny was slight confused though, as it seemed that the original held a great many people close to his heart, and would thus be difficult to find the one that would prevoke him the most into Death's servitude. The doppleganger had thusfar lacked to have the opportunity to browse very far into the original's memories, making this task even harder. The fact that his jumpsuited parents, and overbarring sister were keeping him on his metaphorical toes was not helping in the slightest. Jazz came down a moment later, pulling up a chair to eat her share of breakfast, while reading the latest issue of Genius Magazines. She made the occasional glance in Danny's general direction, as if trying to read his mind like the Grim Reaper could, much to his annoyance. The clone cramed the last piece of pancake into his mouth, taking a moment to savor the sweet flavours tingling his senses. Finished with his meal, and not wanting to spend another moment in the family's company, the clone stood up, spoke his thanks for Maddie's cooking, then stalked back to his room where he proceeded to virtually slam the door shut.

He flung himself onto the floor, getting into a meditative-like sitting posture. Rubbing his temples, he concerntrated with every fiber of his fake conscious into rooting through Danny Fenton's memories. He focused mainly on the ones after he became part ghost, thinking that he would then gradually, and subtley show which of the people in his heart he leaned to the most for support. After a hour of searching through his mind, the choice was obvious, winning by a landslide. An almost sinister grin spread across his pallid face. He could feel Reaper's agreement to who the bargaining piece should be, ordering him to initiate the plan by luring it back to Limbo by any means nessesary.

The grin quickly reversed into a frown, a problematic complication presenting itself. How was he going to obtain the piece without revealing his true nature? After pondering this for a moment, he would've slapped himself in the face, were it his style. They were his **friends**. He could easily persuade them to come over to Fenton Works, as long as he maintained the illusion of being Danny Fenton. That decided, he pulled himself from the floor, wading through the clutter of the room. Dopple-Danny opened his door, growing to detest the thing as it screeched loudly from lack of lubricants. He jumped down the stairs two at a time, pausing at the bottom when he saw a note sticking on the wall.

**Dear Danny,**

** Jack and I went out grocery shopping, and Jazz has gone to her college for the spirit day rally. You can take the day off from school to recover from your terrifying ordeal! We'll be back around one. Love you!**

**Hugs and Kisses, Mom.**

A grin cracked onto his face, though slightly sickened from the parent's show of affection. The parents and sister were out of the house for the day, not due back for 3 hours. Never would there be a more perfect opportunity to get his mission completed post-haste. He went into the kitchen, scanning the room with icy blue eyes. Dopple-Danny finally spotted what he was looking for, on the counter by the Fenton Ecto-Microwave. The doppleganger picked up the phone like it had a timed explosive strapped to it, which could've actually been possible, considering that all of the Fenton's 'harmless' inventions, or modified devices had a tendancy to **spontaneously combust**, according to the original's recollection. He flipped through Danny's memories, pressing the buttons on the phone, praying it wouldn't detonate in his hand. Before he knew it, he had dialed Tucker's number, and waited for the techno-geek to pick up.

He didn't have to wait long.

"You've reached Tucker Foaly's dating service," came a smooth, and extremely annoying voice on the other end of the line, "Tell me your name, and your favorite place to go, and you'll have the time of your life."

"Dash Baxter, and I'd like to go out to find your missing **brain**," Danny jested sarcasically, "Tuck it's me, Danny."

There was some rustling on the other end as Tucker readjusted his grip on his cellphone. He could also make out some embaressed sputtering that the African American tried to mask with a hearty laugh. Needless to say, he failed to indefinate proportions.

"Hey, dude," Tucker said finally, "What's up?"

Danny restrained the urged to sigh in aggitation, instead manipulating his vocal cords to synthesize the proper emotion required to make his fake story believable.

"Tuck, I think the Fenton Portal is broken, or something," Danny stated, "I need to change the Ecto-filter, or the house will blow up, but I can't swap it out for some reason. Think you could come over, and lend me a hand?"

"What about your parents?" Asked the techno-geek, "Can't they help you?"

"They're out shopping, and Jazz is gone for some spirit rally at her college," Dopple-Danny spoke honestly for once, "They wont be back until **one**, and the whole place would probably have exploded by then."

The African American was silent for a moment, thinking the whole thing over.

"Yeah, I'll come," Tucker said, "I can swing by, in around half-an-hour. I'll get Sam too. You guys have a lot of catching up to do."

With that stated, the techno-geek hung up the phone.

Dopple-Danny sensed his master was pleased with him. Having little else to do for the half-hour, the clone lounged around the house, absorbing the thousands of details it was comprised of. He explored it thoroughly, confirming the internal map of the place infused within his conscious, and artificially beating heart. What struck him as odd, was that he was gradually feeling **weaker** as the minutes dragged on. It was like he was dying slowly, but without any pain. He couldn't understand why, and Death refused to inform him the reason behind it. The doppleganger's suspicion grew steadily, but was snapped from his darkening thoughts when the doorbell rang.

He opened the door, putting on the expression best suited for the false situation. Sam and Tucker were standing on the step, smiling at him, perfectly convinced of his illusion of being their real friend. He welcomed them inside, shutting the door gently behind them.

"Thanks for coming, guys." Danny thanked, and gestured for the two to follow him to the basement lab.

"No problem," Sam assured, "Anything to get away from my **parents** for awhile."

They all shared a small laugh, making their way down the stairs, and into the pristen white lab. They made their way over to the Fenton Portal, which was now under lock, and key. Beside the pentagonal machine, was a squarish box with ectoplasmic goo filtering through clear glass tubes. The dial was set at the yellow middle space, indicating it was time to change the filter before it reached the end of the red zone, and thus explosion, thus death. Of course, the filter had been changed a week ago, and thus didn't need to be swapped out for another 5 months. Dopple-Danny had set the dial to the yellow zone to make the farce more believable, until **he** chose to reveal himself.

"So on the phone, you said that you couldn't change the filter for some reason," Tucker stated, observing the Ecto-filter, "Any idea why?"

"Hey, I have a **D** average in school," Danny pointed out, "Do I look like I have any **clue** how to work this thing?"

Sam and Tucker got closer to the Ecto-fliter, as if trying to spot anything wrong with it. Perfect. Danny backed away slowly, silently shuffling over to the Fenton Portal Control Console. When he deemed that they were properly distracted, he placed his thumb on the finger-print scanner, knowing that it would accept the print, and disable the lock on the Fenton Portal. The machine whirred for a moment, then the lock icon flashed green, text appearing on the screen.

_Print Accepted._ It read, _Welcome, Danny Fenton._

The portal shuddered, and the lock slid away. The yellow, and black stripped door opened, swirling ectoplasmic green mist seeping out with a pneumatic hiss. Startled, Sam and Tucker stumbled back on the slippery tiled floor, staring in surprise at the open Ghost Portal.

"What gives, dude?" Tucker questioned, turning his head to gaze at his 'friend' through his glasses, confusion marked on his face.

Aggitation sparked in the clone's blood, directed at the African American's stupidity despite his supposed intellegence. Sam gasped, for at that moment, the clone's eyes flashed pure, blood red, similar to how they were when he was being controlled by Freakshow. Dopple-Danny felt the change to his eye colour, a foriegn energy bubbling behind them. He sensed his master touch his mind, prickling his artifical brain, giving him orders that the being found himself unable to resist. He shook his head clear, focusing on the pathetic creature before him. The clone could see the multitude of emotions flying across her face, and realized his error in lacking self control of his supposedly dead, and burried, utterly **useless** emotions. Seeing that there was no longer any need for subtlety, he let free the snide smirk that he had been trying to keep off his face.

"D-Danny?" Sam studdered, still having yet to understand how much danger she was in. Tucker similarly gaped at his friend's sudden change in mood, and appearance. Feeling the energy of Death coursing through his veins despite his earlier weakness, the doppleganger simply snapped his fingers. The sound seemed to echo almost menacingly off the walls of the lab. The portal's colours shifted, going from toxic green to a tainted crimson, and forboading aura eminating from its depths. The Fenton Portal Control Console gave off twisted red sparks, strained by the sudden mass of energy flooding into its circuits. Beyond the portal, the decaying land of Limbo could vaguely be seen. Dopple-Danny made a beckoning motion towards the crimson energy, having great pleasure in seeing it glow brighter as it complied with his wishes. Skeletal tentacles burst from the eerie mist, lunging at the two humans, wrapping around their bodies faster than they could react. The two struggled fruitlessly in the boney vines' grips, screaming in surprise until the tentacles covered their mouths after a gesture from the clone. The exact physical dupplicate of Danny Fenton, appeared almost smug with the ease he had attained the bargaining pieces, red eyes gleaming in the dull light.

"I-" the clone stated, unable to resist a parting chide to mess with their minds, smiling curving his pallid lips, " -am **not** Danny."

With that revealed, watching for a moment with a sliver of satisfaction as the two humans' eyes widened in horror, the doppleganger snapped his fingers yet again, and the fleshless tentacles retreated into the swirling red void, their captives in tow...

...And into the waiting, sinster grasp of the **Grim Reaper**...

**Author's Notes**

** A shorter chapter, one I'm not entirely satisfied with. I dislike writting about Dopple-Danny, as he lacks any noteable character, or personality traits, only doing what he was created to do-nothing more, nothing less. I perfer writting about Death, which is why the chapters with him in them are much better, than the ones in Team Phantom's general POV. I am not very consistant with the quality of my writting, as you have probably noticed. Next chapter, there is a possiblity of a plot twist, I wonder what it will be. The purpose of the obsidian key will be revealed, and poor Danny will have only one chance to rescue Sam and Tucker from the evil, possibly insane, grudge-barring Grim Reaper. What will he have to do in order to save them? Will Clockwork be brought down by Death, or will the timelord survive his son's plot for revenge? Will I ever stop asking pointless questions, that have answers that are somewhat obvious? Probably not. Find out in Chapter 7, coming soon to Fanfiction! (Man, I'm starting to sound like a cracked movie preview.) **


	7. Grim Bargain

**Authors Notes**

**WOoOoOo...The plot is thickening. Was able to write a big chunk of this really fast, because there was a thunderstorm, so my internet was down. That way, I had no distractions VIA browsing youtube, so I was able to focus purely on this for a large amount of time. I have a feeling I'm gonna pull an all-nighter to get this story done, to make up for my absence tomorrow. Sorry about that, by the way. Going to be at my Grandma's house. Anyway, Coca Cola has become my best friend when writting these chapters. If I don't finish this story, I have a feeling I will foam at the mouth and fall into a writer's block coma for all eternity. But enough of that, let's do this! *Cracks Knuckles***

Ghost Zone, Grim Reaper's Lair; Limbo.

Danny stirred from his spell-induced sleep, a profound, needle sharp headache drilling into his brain. His consiousness processed the pain, but was dulled, and could not compute why he was feeling it. Thoughts swirled in his head, evidently supressed when the discomfort faded with time, leaving him to wonder if he had truly felt it, or it was just an illusion his subconscious had conjured up to prod him into awareness. He felt weightless, muscles relaxed and loose, pleasureably at peace. His brain released happy endorphins, giving him an uncanny sensation of well-being, and a sense of safety. The halfa was almost content to simply float there, remain oblivious to what was around him, unknown as it was. But eventually, his natural curiousity peaked, and he felt the urge to explore. This shattered the spell placed on him, fragmenting it like a broken glass mirror. The state of primal contentment lifted, leaving him feeling weak, numb, and confused. He opened his eyes, blinking his vision into focus as black spots danced before him. For a brief moment, he was clueless as to where he was, gazing at the gray-red sky dotted with staring, inhuman eyes. The land was foriegn, charred, and decaying, lifelessly barren, unnaturally so. But as he looked about, his memory came back in a flash. He was in the Grim Reaper's Lair; Limbo. His house guest, in a sense. The thought of the skeletal Death God would have sent a shiver down his spine the day before, but he now felt that Death was not an evil ghost, despite his odd murderous hate towards Clockwork. Besides, the ancient ghost could've killed him at any point in time, during his 4 day captivity/ stay, yet he hadn't. That made the spook alright in his book, though he still gave the halfa a bad vibe.

He couldn't really place the feeling, actually. It was just something about the Reaper that set off alarm bells in his head, though the source was unknown. He had saved his hide from near-death, afterall, and was protecting Amity Park in his absence. Surely he wasn't as malicious, and dark as the legends described him as. Granted, maybe he was a **little **harsh when it came to torturing him, for merely taking a glance at the TO DIE list, and his gory artwork, but he didn't appear to be a bad guy, rather misunderstood. It was understandable that he be a tad mentally unstable, considering his job was to kill dying people for all eternity. Reaper had probably seen more than his fair share of the horrors humanity had to offer, during his millenias of existance. But despite that, he persisted to uphold his Death God status, while any other person would've fled from the duty at the first opportunity they got. Commendable, and extremely impressive, Death having yet to break under the insufferable weight of strain that came with the job. Danny had merely defended his hometown from supernatural invaders for a year and a half, and the stress was sometimes more than he could bare. His imagination couldn't **fathom** what Death's duty was doing to his mind, to his very soul, after all these years. Jazz would've loved to disect the ancient ghost's mind, find out what made the spook tick, probably document it all for a phycology paper on the effects of stress on the human mind.

Thinking of the black wearing spector, Danny looked about, attempting to locate his gracious host. The black marble collumn from which the TO DIE list hung was missing, as was the thorned, red pentagonal Ghost Portal, giving the place a more open feel to it, yet at the same time boading ill with Danny's subsconsious, which his clueless conscious mind ignored entirely as usual. As his toxic green gaze wandered, he took notice that Limbo now had a more forboading aura about it, somehow darker than before Danny was spelled. Black, forked lightning zigzagged in the oddly coloured clouds, the atmosphere dry and heavy, the ground trembling with slight tremors. Danny had considered the place depressing before, but now the gloom it gave off now was almost **palpable.**

A cold chuckled echoed behind the halfa, causing him to turn to its source. Large, ash coated stone stairs rose from the dead earth, winding like a twisted tree a good 5 metres in the air. At the peak of the steps was a spiked, obsidian black throne, decorated in disfigured human skulls, and crimson strips of cloth dangling from rusted chains. Intricate runes were carved into the chair, embented with a number of darkly colour gems, appearing worthy of an evil king. Death sat in the throne. The stoic skull was twisted into a sinister, bemused grin, bone ghost tail wisping from side to side, off the ledge of the seat. His head was resting against one skeletal hand, while the other tapped a clawed finger on the arm of the decorated chair, almost expectantly.

"I trust you had a pleasant sleep?" the ghost asked, an odd coldness underlying his tone.

Danny nodded slowly, eyes narrowed slightly. Something was definately different about the ancient spook, sinister. He couldn't place the thought, but it nagged at the back of his consciousness like his overbarring sister. He saw the Reaper's red eye flare, and immediantly knew the ghost had read his mind, and didn't like what he saw. Danny attempted to block out all thoughts, clearing his consciousness, succeeding almost easily, which was somewhat insulting to his intellegence.

Death's expression morphed, becoming the picture of a gracious host, causing Danny to doubt himself, considering if he was simply seeing things. The Grim Reaper cracked a grin, appearing genuinely pleased to know that his guest had gotten a contentful rest.

"That is good," he said, "Good sleep is hard to come by these days, especially for hardworking ghosts such as you, and me."

Danny silently agreed with that statement, the latenight ghost hunting often depreiving him hours of much-needed rest, causing his usually fall asleep in Mr. Lancer's class. Some days he always thought he would pass out from lack of sleep, sometimes even during ghost attacks. Juggling ghost hunting, and his personal life would pretty soon become a health hazard if he didn't get more sleep. Death seemed to give him sympathetic look from the height of his throne, leaning back in the seat.

"Yes," Death mused, "**No one** understands the troubles that come with our duties, themselves content in lounging in arrogance, and perfering to get others to do the difficult tasks for them." The spook shook his head in disbelief, as if he'd never consider the thought.

A thought spiked into Danny's mind.

"Sam and Tucker, Jazz, my parents...how are they doing?" Danny asked, gazing questioningly at the Death God.

The Grim Reaper appeared to be taken off guard by that, not expecting the question so suddenly had it been spoken aloud, lacking the chance to read his mind before he had asked it. To his credit, he recovered quickly.

"They are fine," he assured, a hurt expression dancing along his skull features, "The doppleganger has snapped them out of their depression. Your family is doing well." There sounded to be an odd hidden meaning burried within those last 5 words, but as usual, it skimmed right over Danny's head.

Noticing at last that he could move more easily, he looked down at himself to see that his body lacked the white bandages that had been wrapped tightly around him the day previous. The halfa's torn, insigna barring hazmat suit had naturally repaired itself, now whole once more. He never really understood how it did that. He stretched his body to its limits, testing to see how limber his muscles were. Regardless to what manner he moved his limbs, no pain spiked in his brain, or crippling weakness left him numb. He felt normal, uninjured despite the pounding headache that **persisted **to stalk him. The halfa's mind buzzed, energiezed by the realization that he was back at 100% at last.

He looked at the Grim Reaper in the eye, thinking as loudly as he could, sending the unasked question to the mind reader in an almost childish manner. The slitted pupil dilated, seeming to strip away at his mental defenses like they were made of puddy. The red eye gleamed, signifiying that Reaper had heard his thoughts, and he apparently didn't like it. Shadows danced menacingly on his scowling skeletal face, forked tongue flickering out from between from his fanged maw. Danny noticed his boney hand clenched, claws digging deep into the arm of the throne. This uncharacteristic show of anger was confusion worthy for Danny, unable to comprehend why his request to leave would cause Death to be infuriated. Maybe it was because he didn't say _please_...

The Grim Reaper snapped a finger, and the ground split open, rotting undead tentacles wrapping around him, retraining any, and all movement from the halfa. Danny struggled, attempted to phase through, or break free off the vines' grasp. It was impossible. The decaying limbs were as resistant to his thrashing as steel cables, the eerie red glow they eminated seeping into his core, effectively cutting him off from his ghostly abilites. After a beckoning guesture from Death, the appendages brought the squirming half ghost closer to the Death God's throne, until he could practically smell the discusting scent of decay, and death hanging over him in a choking cloud.

"I'm afriad I cannot allow you to leave," Death hissed, "We still have much left to discuss,"

"Let me go!" Danny said, still writhing in the bone-snapping grip of the rotting tentacles.

The Grim Reaper feigned a wounded expression, which should have been impossible considering showing emotion was unlikely when your face was a skull. But then again, logic went out the metophorical window when it came to ghosts.

"You would leave, abandoning these two humans to suffer?" Death asked, a crazed grin cracked across his face. Two more decaying apendages sprouted from the dry earth, holding a twisted, black barred cage in the air. Within the cage, Tucker and Sam lay, clothes ragged, bodies battered. "And you call yourself their **friend**." Death cackled, his voice resonating in Danny's skull.

The halfa's eyes widened slightly, staring at the limp forms of his best friends. For an instant, he thought they were dead. Unconscious, not dead, Danny thought, seeing the steady - if not strained - rise and fall of their chests. Anger bubbled in his veins, directed at the skeletal ghost that had kidnapped, and hurt his friends. Danny growled dangerously, glaring at the spook sitting on his obsidian throne, looking quite amused by the halfa's rage. The clone had chosen wisely for the bargaining piece. This child was so **easily** provoked, given the right motivation.

"Now that I have your attention," Death sneered, expression instantly becoming serious, "I have a proposition for you, boy."

Danny's ectoplasmic green eyes bored holes into the spook's skull face. "I'm listening,"

The Grim Reaper smirked -again, quite impressive considering he currently had no **lips** to speak of.

"Five days ago, when you were attacked by Vlad Plasmius, and left for dead in the Ghost Zone, your archenemy stole from your possession, a blackened, skull design barring key." Death stated, tongue lashing in anger, "That key was once **mine**, until it was stolen by a paultry thief. The culpret hs eluded me for quite some time, but I had managed to track it down six days past. Unfortunately, it had already entrusted the artifact into your possession, and thus it escaped my grasp yet again."

"And what does this have to do with me?" Danny asked, anger still underlying his voice.

"I want you to track down Vlad Masters, and retrieve the key for me," The Grim Reaper hissed through his fangs, "If you do this, I will release your friends, and you may return to the human realm. Everyone walks away content, and no one besides that **fool**, Plasmius has to die."

"Why not just get your clone of me to do it?"

Death scowled, irritated at all the questions this child kept spouting off. Honestly, **what** was so difficult to grasp about this whole situation? The boy had retrieve what was rightfully his, or else he would kill his friends in cold blood. It was not a hard concept to understand.

"You of all people should know how **unstable** clones can be," Death snarled, "The doppleganger barely lasted a day, surviving only long enough to capture your friends here, before disolving into a puddle of ectoplasm. A shame, really, but such is the fate that all clones suffer... **eventually**."

Danny fell silent, thoughts swirling in his mind. All he had to do was just get this key from Vlad, and then Death would release Sam and Tucker. It sounded fair, all things considered. It probably wasn't going to be easy, but he could manage. He found himself doubting the Grim Reaper's honesty, as he had built this entire situation around Danny ears without him noticing. Who was to say he wouldn't simply **take** the key, and kill him, and his friends regardless out of spite?

"The truth is...you don't," Death hissed, answering Phantom's unasked question, "All that is certain, is that I **will **kill your friends should you refuse my...generous offer."

Danny swallowed, fully believing the sinister ghost. "Fine...I'll do it."

"I knew you would," With a gesture, the skeletal tendrils retreated back into the earth, releasing Danny. The cage containing the halfa's friends disappeared, vanishing into the depths as the crevices snapped shut. Danny floated in front of Death, glaring daggers, before clenching his hands into fists, and taking off swiftly in the opposite direction, disappearing into the swirling green void of the Ghost Zone. The Grim Reaper remained seated, absentmindedly carving deep grooves into the arm of the throne with a 3 inch long claw. The boy would complete his appointed task to save his friends, there was no doubt about that. What gnawed at his mind continuously was the question of if Clockwork would intervene before the key fell, once again, into his possession. The thought of his father made his blood boil, igniting his mind aflame in an inferno of hatred. It took him a moment, but he managed to calm himself, leaning back against his chair as much as his horns would permit. No doubt the timelord was already making his move against him. But that old fool would not stop him, deny him his birthright of ultimate power, and domination over all of the Ghost Zone.

He had been the strongest ghost in all of history, until his father had put a swift end to his ambitions to rule over all, sending a petty thief to spirit away the source to his true power, which -ironically- was a key. Centuries of searching pursude, but to no avail. The thief eluded him at every turn...until now. It had finally slipped up, and Death had finally cornered him. Unfortunately, it had already passed the key on to another; Danny Phantom. And even despite his best efforts to sieze the boy, the artifact continued to evade him. But not for long. Currently, it was in the possession of Vlad Masters, an upstart halfa of small renown, hardly worth Death himself to visit to retrieve what didn't belong to him. But he could already sense Clockwork's approch upon the billionaire...he intended to hide the source of his power yet again, far from his grasp. He didn't expect his piece in the game to make it in time to counter Clockwork's advance, but moreso to lure the timelord into the open. He would act as a beacon, a way to locate Clockwork when he appeared to confront Danny. He was predictable that way. His father had developed strong mental defenses over the millenia of their conflict, making it almost impossible to keep track of him, or read his thoughts. Danny on the other hand, had a mind that could be read as easily as an open book. He could hear every thought whirling inside his head, making it an simple task to find him wherever he may be. It was the equivalent of strapping bright, multicoloured neon signs over his head, and sticking him in a small, empty gray room. The two halfas -Danny and Vlad - were merely pawns, caught in the middle of a 4.3 thousand millenia old power squabble between two ancient ghosts. A dangerous place to be.

Death thought of the might he once possessed, yearning to wield it once more to smite down his pathetic father, get his revenge at last for all those billions of years of abandonment, and rejection. Clockwork had left him to rot in Limbo, bound for all eternity by the gruesome duties as Lord of the Dead. He could do nothing to create, to give life. All he could do was destroy, his dark power gnawing away at him from the inside out, forced to be utterly alone for the majority of his afterlife, surrounded by nothing but death, and decay. And it was all Clockwork's fault. It was **his** subtle cruelty that had made him suffer in Limbo for 4 billion years...

**_...And he would PAY..._**

**Author's Notes**

**WoOoOoOo The Grim Reaper is INSANE! He wants to kill everyone, just because he and his dad don't see eye-to-eye. A little extreme, I'd say, but then again this is Death we're talking about. When you think Lord of the Dead, you don't exactly picture gumdrops and rainbows now do you? As someone -I don't know who- once said, 'Great power corrupts.' Which I suppose could've happened to him at some point. Woah, two chapters done in a day. Now I KNOW I don't have a life! So now we know the key is the secret to reawakening some ultimate, badass power in the Grim Reaper, so why does VLAD have it? He can't even use it, so what purpose could he want the key for, or is it just because he loves stealing shiny things from people? I don't even know at this point! My brain is mush from writting so much! I'm just gonna let you people guess, and leave it at that. I'm leaving for my grandma's house tomorrow, and wont be back for two days, so expect a delayed update, as It will take awhile to get my writting cap back on. Good bye, and I hope you enjoyed this extremely confusing chapter.**


	8. Bitter Past

**Authors Beginning Notes**

** I'm back! Here's where the plot starts to kick up, the climax now only a chapter away. That's right people, one more chapter and we're done. I'm amazed I managed to get this far. I truly only expected to reach chapter 5, but now I got 8, soon to be 9. Thank you to all the reviewers possitive comments, praise, and constructive criticm, for urging me onward to complete this. Honestly, this could be the very first story I've written that I actually finished. I shall work extra hard to make the final chapter better than the rest, possibly longer as well. Well, without wasting your time further with my gibbering, here's chapter 8!**

Somewhere In the Ghost Zone...

Danny Phantom flew through the Ghost Zone, passing many a ghost's lair, thoughts distant. An internal map of the spectral world seemed to spark within himself, lying before him the path to his intended destination. He was off to steal a key, uphold his bargain to the ancient ghost of Death, and save his friends from the sinister grasp of a demented psychopath. The halfa couldn't believe the predicament he had unwittingly wandered into, dragging his friends and family along for the morbid thrill of a life-or-death situation. It all started because he just HAD to explore the Ghost Zone five days ago. If he hadn't ventured into it, none of this would've happened. It was all Danny's fault that his friends were now paying for his curiousity, their lives hanging in the balance as a motivation to forfill his part of the bargain. If he didn't retrive a key from Vlad, Sam and Tucker would pay the ultimate price for his ineptitude. He had effectively played into Death's hands, entangled within the middle of a 4.3 billion year old plot for revenge, against who, Danny couldn't say for certain at that point. But if he were to hazard a guess, he'd say the direction of Death's anger pointed towards Clockwork. Judging from how ill the Death God spoke of the timelord, the two didn't see eye-to-eye when it came to upholding their duties, especially when Danny was involved. Phantom had to say that he felt opposed to the thought of two ancient, powerful spirits squabbling over whether he should live or not.

The halfblood was unsure how a key fit into the whole situation, but seeing the lengths Death was willing to go in order to obtain it, he ventured to say it would likely tip the scales to the black-wearing spector's favor against Clockwork, should it come into his grasp. But despite the possible consequences of handing over the key to Death, he had to rescue his friends from the spook's clutches. However, that transaction could very well bring about the end of the world. If Clockwork were to be defeated, it could upset the balance of time itself, with no one to keep the timestream in order and under control. He didn't know exactly what would follow if the timestream fell apart, but he had a keen feeling it wouldn't be healthy to both the Ghost Zone, and Earth. To be quite frank, Danny was torn. He had to either sacrifice both worlds to save his friends, or side with Clockwork and thus indirectly murder his friends, but asure the stability of time and space, and therefore save his home, and the homes of billions of people. He had always known his dabbling between both worlds would soon become a health hazard, for both himself and the people around him. Now he had to chose who to rescue, and the indecision was ripping him apart. Danny strained himself thinking, worming through the possible outcomes of the predicament he tumbled into, trying to see if there was anyway to save both the worlds, and his friends. There just **had** to be a way.

But no matter what angle he looked at the situation from, there was only two ways the bargain would end; Sacrifice either the world, or his friends. There was absolutely no middle ground consider, Death beating him at every turn. While holding his friends hostage, regardless what direction the whole thing would take, Death would come out the victor. Even if Danny refused to uphold his part of the bargain, therefore condemning his friends to death, the Grim Reaper could always obtain the key himself, making Danny's efforts null and void. And if Danny got what he demanded, there was no guarantee the sinister skeleton would keep his promise, and let them leave Limbo alive. He was like a rat in a cage, hopelessly ensnared within the situational walls Death had built around his ears.

Danny was almost oblivious to his surroundings, so emursed in his angst ridden thoughts. In fact, he was so completely clueless to what was around him, he didn't notice someone was floating in his path until he collided face-first into them. Startled, he fell back with a surprised grunt. The halfa's ectoplasmic green eyes widened slightly at the sight of who he had flown into. He instantly reconized the purple cloaked, watch wearing blue skinned spook, clock-barring staff clutched in strong, youthful hands.

"Clockwork!"

The Master of Time had a face that could've been etched in stone, stoic and void of almost all emotion. The spook's only indication that he had acknowledged Danny's continued existence was a slight glint in his pure red eyes. The timelord appeared distant, deep in thought as Danny had been. Clockwork's eyes wandered their surroundings, as if expecting someone to jump into the path of his vision. The halfa scanned around him as well, attempting to reconize any familarity about it. It was a futile action, as the area appeared like any other random space of the Ghost Zone; Swirling green ectoplasmic energy, floating doors which lead to ghosts' lairs, and hovering chunks of barren rocks, with the occasional lush, tropical jungles dotting levitating islands. There was no distinguishing features that marked the area as unique, or familar to the halfa. In the Ghost Zone consideration, it was average.

Clockwork let out a sigh of defeat, aging into his elder form. The timelord appeared to be deprived of spirit, lacking his usual all-knowing demeanor that practically eminated from him the time the halfa last saw him. But as he sighed, Danny caught a glimpse of a skull decorated, obsidian key hanging beneath his ridiculously long white beard. It was the key which Death sought, was willing to kill for, and it was in the possession of the one the Grim Reaper hated the most, not Vlad like he had assumed. Danny got a feeling in his gut that something wasn't right. There was no way he could just happen upon Death's hated rival, who was at the same time carrying the artifact he had torn up the Ghost Zone for centuries to find. It was simply **too** convenient for comfort. The time ghost caught the halfa's focused glance, a subtle frown curving his pale lips. The spook fingered at the chain from which the key hung, clutching his staff tighter in deceitfully frail, aged hands.

"What business brings you here, boy?" Clockwork asked, eyes narrowing questioningly.

Danny was slightly confused. Clockwork was the Master of Time. Gifted with the power of foresight, he was able to see the twist and turns of the every future, every possibility, every alternative, all the paths one might -or might not- take. So in other words - he knew everything. Or at least...he was suppose to. Yet here he was, oblivious as to why Danny was wandering the Ghost Zone. That, or he was an extremely talented actor.

"Nothing much," Danny replied almost sarcastically , "I'm just being played like a puppet by an evil, psychopathic ghost who wants to kill everyone, maybe even risk being cliche, and destroy the world like every other villain out there tries to do. You know, the usual."

His blunt sarcasm was rewarded with raised eyebrows from Clockwork.

"I suppose by 'evil, psychopathic ghost', you are refering to the Grim Reaper," Clockwork stated, "Correct?"

The halfa nodded moodily, still hovering in front of the timelord.

"Yeah," Danny confirmed, making slight hand gestures as he spoke, "He kidnapped Tucker and Sam, and if I don't bring him that weird key around your neck, he'll kill them."

Clockwork's expression grew grim, but his eyes shone sadly. He rested his staff against his shoulders, stroking his beard, aged face creased.

"He went too far," Clockwork said darkly, almost absentmindedly adjusting the dial on his clock staff, "Using those who aren't involved in this as pawns to get what he wants. Though, I suppose I initiated it."

"What do you mean?" asked the young Phantom, hoping for some answers as to the Grim Reaper's motives, and the curious history that seemed to link Clockwork to him.

"I used Vlad Masters in an attempt to take this key off your hands. Reaper had tracked you down, planning to dispatch you in order to take back what was his. I wanted to lure him away from you, and prevent him from getting this item." Clockwork began, holding up the skeleton key as he spoke, "Unfortunately, Plasmius had his own plans. So instead of simply stealing it from you while you slept, as I had ordered him to, he attacked you while you were cut off from any possible assistance from your friends, or family, stealing the key for himself. I merely relieved him of it, not one hour ago."

"But why does Death want this key so bad?" questioned Danny, speaking aloud his confusion to the evil spook's motive. "I mean, It doesn't look like something worth killing another person over to me."

Clockwork sighed heavily, form shifting into a buck-teethed toddler. He looked tired, worn out.

"It is difficult to explain, moreso to understand," Clockwork stated, "Perhaps it would be easier to simply...show you." Without waiting for Danny to protest, the timelord raised his staff, pressing the button atop its mounted clock. The Ghost Zone seemed to ripple, tearing itself apart, a multitude of clocks of all shapes and sizes surrounding them. Blue energy whipped around Danny's face, forcing him to raise and arm to shield his eyes. He felt pressure building up around him, threatening to pop his head like a grape. It could only be described like his body was being forced through a very narrow opening as easily as if he was made of puddy, cartoonish style. There was a sudden pop, followed by a brilliant blue flash, and the two ghosts were gone, thrown back through the timestream...

... _**and into the past**_...

**FLASH BACK; Ghost Zone - Approximently 4.3 Billion Years Ago**.

_Young Reaper floated aimlessly around the lifeless decaying world he lived in, rage coursing through his small body. He so despised his father with such a passion, his hatred for his was almost palpable. All his life, he had wanted nothing more than to make his father proud and praise him, make him see Reaper as his son, and not the abomiation he had developed him into. But no matter what he did, he continued to be inadequate in that man's eyes. All his father had shown him was cruelty and rejection, abandoning the young spook in the furtherst corner of the Ghost Zone. In Limbo, all there was to be, and all there would ever be, was death. Everything on the cursed island was undead, and rotting, not a speck of life to be seen in the dry, cracked soil. The sky was dark and gray, streaks of red coursing through it, unnatural bloodshot eyes blinking from the clouds. Ruins dotted the place, which had proved to be somewhat able to distract Reaper from his pain and sorrow by exploring them. But the wanderlust did not last, nor did it's distracting quality. The insufferable weight of lonelyness slammed down unto him, so deep and pure it was nearly suffocating. The unnatural red ectoplasmic energy that the entire island eminated saturated his very core, but unlike the other green energy abundent in the Ghost Zone, this crimson force had mutilated his body into a grotesque creature, causing him intense flares of unbarable agony. The boy dared to look at himself in a floating, cracked and dusty mirror. His cheeks were sunken, his skin ghoulishly pallid and chilled, his hair bone white. He blinked the single, blood red eye that was centered in his forehead, his two normal eyes had long since decayed within their now empty sockets. His hands were sprouting curved black claws, the flesh rotting away to reveal pristen white bone, the same thing happening to the rest of his body beneath his long black robes. The young spook was just like a living, rotting corpse, doomed to painfully slow decomposition._

_ It was unfair! Unjust and undeserving! He was only ten years old, and he had to suffer such a cruel fate at the hands of his horrible father! All he ever did was give life, to let things grow and prosper. He loved to breath life into his small clay creations with his friend Undergrowth, watch them thrive on the planet Earth. He would've been content to do this for all eternity. But his father had different plans for him. Instead of being the aspect of Life itself, as he had always dreamed...he was bound to do the exact opposite. Why did it have to be him to bare the mantle, why did he have to be crushed beneath the burden..._

_ ...Why did he have to be the Lord of the Dead?_

_ He never wanted this. He never wanted to be a rotting monstrosity, eternally damned to the duty of reaping the souls of Undergrowth's and his beloved creations, forced to be the side of negativity between the balance of life and death. He and Undergrowth hadn't seen eachother since Reaper was banished to Limbo to bare the burden of his duty. The young spook wished to learn the fate of his best and only friend, plagued by lonelyness and suffering. But as what he assumed to be days dragged on, he realized he wasn't as alone as he had first dreaded. He had made another friend on the barren rock, impossible as it sounded_. _He discovered he had the power to call forth fellow undead creatures from the depths of the island, with only a snap of his fingers. Reaper learned there was a bizare monster living in the core of Limbo. It looked pretty intimidating, but it was oddly kind to him for some reason. It even gave him rides, and let him sleep on it's skeletal tentacles. So even if he knew he was fated to remain banished on this island, he was somewhat relieved to know Limbo wasn't as vacant as he had feared._

_ As the days escalated into years, and Reaper grew older, his tolerance toward the duty as Lord of the Dead grew to the point where he was proud to bare it's mantle, and his dark necromantic abilites amplified a thousand fold. Unfortunately, the prolonged exposure to the red ectoplasm rendered the once charming boy, into a full grown skeletal abomination to nature. Though at first it had been terrifying to realize the horrific mutation to his body, he had come to accept it, even relished to be so. It made him unique._

_ His father didn't see it that way._

_ The man had actually mustered up the heart to visit the son he had tortured for all his childhood. But once he saw what Reaper had become, his father had turned away in apparent discust. With his single eye that had come about in the early stages of his mutation, he had developed the ability to see into peoples minds. Reaper had tested his newfound power on the primal humans roaming Earth, easily manipulating the thoughts of the simple minded creatures to his whim. Though he did not enjoy delving into such dark practices, the ability had its uses. At the moment his father had turned away, Reaper was overwelmed in a cascading flow of thoughts coming from the man's mind. While it was immensely difficult to decipher the jumbled mesh of thoughts, and images, he DID make out one sentence._

_ "_**What an abomination...**_"_

_ Those words hit the young ghost right in the central part of his core. But regardless of his father's apparent disdain, the man trained Reaper to use Scythes, and to control his powers for the majority of his teenage years. During that time, they developed a tentive bond, which fanned the spark of joy that the boy thought had long since been snuffed out by the weight of rejection and abandonment. They were some of his happiest moments, when he wasn't plagued by the haunt thoughts of his past years of suffering. He found that when he was training with his father, the man would give him genuinely kind praise when he displayed proper technique when handling his Death Scythe, or well controlled power when conjuring ectoplasmic radiation blasts. Reaper began to think that perhaps it was strength that made his father kinder towards him, and that if he got stronger, and displayed his power in an extravagant manner, his father would love him more, and would finally reconize him as his son._

_ Those possitive thoughts motivated him to train harder when his father wasn't at Limbo, aiming to his goal of acknowledgement from the elder spook that had 'raised' him. As he took a break from the exerting task, he stumbled upon a hidden chamber, lying deep within the heart of Limbo. It was an ancient place, black obsidian making up the entirety of the rooms and corridors, runic symbols clearly depicting that he wasn't the first person to stumble upon the old ruins. In the central chamber was a blackened skeleton key, hovering over a never-ending pit encased within solidified crimson ectoplasm. Naturally, Reaper couldn't resist taking it. The young spook summoned his Death Scythe - an ability discovered while training with his father - and quickly shattered the crystalized casing, freeing the key. After some time of fiddling, he learned that the key fit perfectly into the lock embented in the shaft of his Death Scythe. Only hesitating for a brief moment, he slid the key into the lock._

_ There weren't any words to discribe exactly the awe-inspiring power that coursed through his veins, that which twisted his body further into a monstrostiy, and filled his skull with ancient knowledge so vast, he though his head would burst open from the continuous stream of foriegn images, and memories that were not his own. It was this power, that Reaper showed to its fullest extent in order to initiate a misguided attempt to impress his father. Reaper summoned undead creatures hideous, and eerie, and opened the very gates to the Afterlife itself to set loose spirits under his beckon call, controlled by his amplified phycic abilites granted to him by his permanatly stitched open, blood red eye. The power drove him mad, his ambitions of simply gaining praise from his father, escalating into complete and utter conquest of the Ghost Zone. _

**Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely**_. _

_ Reaper's rein of terror lasted for years, his power easily crushing any who stood in his way. He was Death himself, not it's servant like he was led to believe. The agony, lonelyness and suffering he had endured for all his days, swirled in his mind, the unbarable strain the might of the obsidian key brought upon his body driving him over the edge. He became obsessed with power, obtaining it and using it to bring misery to others. He wanted to show all in the Ghost Zone a mere SHRED of the torment he had gone through, make them understand. Only then would he be compelled to cease his rampage, and call off his massive undead army. But his formally uncontested rule over the Ghost world was brought to a sudden, and infuriating end. His father sent a thief to spirit away the source of his immense nercromantic abilites, and hide it deep within the reaches of the planet Earth. This thieft was to bring Death's power down to managable levels, and in his father's secret hopes that his son would sever from his addiction, return him back to normal. _

_ It was futile. The pent up anger, fear, loathing, and sadness caused by his father was released by being so suddenly stripped of all his powers, pushing him precariously close to emotional, and mental demention. However, without the source of the power he had become addicted to, his strength had effectively been halved. Many an ancient ghost mocked him, taunted his weakness. Thankfully, Death didn't renew his assult on the Ghost Zone with his power siphoned away. Instead, he retreated to the solitude of Limbo, refusing any thoughts of going beyond its decaying boarders, except to reap souls on Earth. His mental instability was gradually eased by the comforting of his monster friend that lived in the core of Limbo, only generally refered to as 'Limbs'. Reaper became more like his old self with each century, but was still persisting to search for the obsidian key his father had hidden from him. The thief had always sensed his nearing, eluding him at every turn and twist. The fruitless chase wore him down, and he evidently put it aside for his undead associates to do in his stead while he concentrated on his own tasks. _

_ The squabble between him and his father died down, going from all out duels, to simply messing with eachother's jobs to make their opponent's afterlife harder. It was almost childish, a friendly bickering it could be dared to say. However, the last millenia had sturred up the ancient 4 billion year old hostility, effectively killing any foolish antics of violent practical jokes, instead driving Death into dark bitterness. His hate for his father steadily grew when the man continuously meddled with his affairs, changing the course of destiny without heed to the Laws of Temporal Displacement set down by the Observants. It infuriated the Death God to no end. But what truely drove him over the edge was when Danny Phantom got involved with his father. The boy had peaked his interests, and he considered him worthy to be his chosen, his right hand in the affairs of man and ghost kind, his puppet string to manipulate anyone he chose to in the human or spectral realm. But his father had gotten to him first, that cursed man. He never ceased to ruin Reaper's afterlife, all those years of torment, and torture. He would pay for what he had wrought._

_His father would pay..._

_...__**CLOCKWORK would pay**_**...**

**Authors Notes**

** Finally! I've been wanting to do a growing-up flash back for the Grim Reaper for awhile now. It just wouldn't stop nagging at me. So I figured instead of doing a long as heck verbal explaination between Clockwork and Danny, It would work much better to do a flashback. This flashback gives us a much more refined look to Death's character and personality. I wanted to give him a sort of misguided, endearing kid who suffered for all his life, only to have that pain evolve into intense bitterness towards the one who inflicted it upon him I.E Clockwork. That way, he WOULDN'T end up feeling like a normal 'I want to rule (or destroy) the world!' stuff petty villains usually spout off. Death doesn't want anything to do with ruling over Earth or the Ghost Zone, he just wants to destroy his daddy...which may or may not bring about the end of the worlds in the process. Totally different stuff. Seriously, I have no clue what would happen if Clockwork were to die, all I know is it wouldn't be healthy. Feels good to be back and typing again, even though my sleep cycle is probably dead and burried by now. Honestly, I spent around...4 hours straight writting this off the top of my head (because I forgot how I WAS going to go about it while I was at my Grandma's.) plus editing, and rewritting huge chunks of it, proof reading, etc, etc, etc. Needless to say, my brain is fried. Well, at least there's only ONE MORE CHAPTER LEFT! I don't know whether to be excited or sad. Excited because it would be the first story I actually managed to finish, and it was very enjoyable to write, and because I will now be able to get more sleep again. Sad because I have no idea what to do next, I'll not have anything else to do to pass the time, and I don't really like sleeping in the first place. I'm gonna be taking maybe a day or two off from writting to get some decent sleep, then I'll get right on making chapter nine, so hold up for a little long, if the suspence is gnawing on your ankles like a pesky Troller.**


	9. The Final Battle

**Authors Beginning Notes**

** Yello, everyone. This is the final chapter of Danny's Brush With Death. It is much longer than the others, and much will happen within this one little chapter. First, I would like to thank all the people who review possitively to this cracked fanfiction, that I thought up out of bordom. I seriously didn't think anyone would like it. Would anyone believe that I improvised for about 99.999% of this story? Honestly, I truely made most of it up as I went along. If you ask me, planning takes away from the creativity of the story, and all it does is add stress unto the writer with having to connect the plot dots together to build up to the planned scenes. So for me, with all the editting I do before update day, planning is sorta pointless, so it gets chucked out the metaphorical window. Special thanks to DBack, Dragonlover247 and Turkeyhead987 for helping me keep my motivation of finishing this story. Your advice and messages really helped me out, when I thought I would be forced to cancel this thing. I know this is kinda cheesey and cliche, but to me -someone who has NEVER finished a story before - it means alot. So thanks ya'll! I pulled an all-nighter to make this an entertaining conclusion to this story, and I hope you enjoy it, for I loved writting every single bit of this as well as the other chapters. Without further ado, here's chapter nine, the final chapter...**

Ghost Zone, Grim Reaper's Lair; Limbo

The Grim Reaper's skeletal face was cracked with a sinister grin. His crimson eye's focus converged on his pawn's troubled thoughts like a buzzard to a tantalizingly injured animal, with equally ill intentions. He could hear the conflicting thoughts course through the boy's distracted mind, analyzing the situation from every possible angle, weighing his options. Reaper could sense he was, quite frankly, torn between who he could possible rescue from the Death God's 'evil clutches', and if the was a possibility he would be able to save both Clockwork and his friends. Grim was opposed to the thought of being evil. The only thing he ever wanted was vengence, the Ghost Zone and the human realm could rot for all he cared. His ambitions were aimed solely at killing his father once the obsidian key fell into his grasp. Once Clockwork was dead, he would seclude himself in Limbo. His ancient loathing didn't extend to lowly mortals, even if they abhorred him as much as he did them. In all consideration, they were but innocent bystanders, ones not worthy of his wrath. Though he was indefinatly maniacal in some sense, he did not ruminate himself as evil, a ruthless killing monstrosity with no indication of moral. This thought caused the Grim Reaper to pause, rolling it over in his mind. Would he actually kill those who were not involved, even considering he had forced Danny Phantom into compliance with the threat of murdering of his friends in cold blood? Would he truely stoop to killing those who had never wronged him, never gave him a motivation to end their miserable and pathetic lives?

"No," Reaper decided, leaning back against his obsidian throne. He would never be able to muster up the heartlessness to murder the defenceless in cold blood. Death's eye hardened, keen-edged as a freshly sharpened blade. His father was an entirely different matter. Reaper would be tickled pink at the opportunity to finally destroy his father's life, helpless or not. Neither would he mind the chance to end Danny Phantom's wretched existence. Reaper had always thought of Danny bitterly, envying his tender ties with his family and friends. The boy was blessed with a father that truely cared for him, something Grim was denied grievously early in his life. In fact, the young halfa possessed a polar opposite life to Reaper's, much to the Death God's jealousy. He had the childhood the Grim Reaper was deprived of at a young age. Yet, because of his harsh past, he was now one of the most aboundingly powerful ghosts in all of history...once his property was returned to his grasp. Danny, on the other hand, was far to moral to kill anything if he could help it, made soft from his petty lifestyle and utterly useless emotions. His human side would bring about his doom, sooner or later -and likely sooner if the Grim Reaper had his way. But what would he do with the boy's friends? The indecision was waging an internal war within his core, causing his skull twist into a grimace and clench his taloned fingers, digging deep ruts into the arm of his seat. The devious Reaper couldn't understand why he felt opposed to murdering the two helpless humans, regardless of his intact morals. Whenever he considered the thought, his past resurfaced, images of his time with Undergrowth, the fun they had all those years ago before he was cast into exile. And even on Limbo, the moments he thought he had nothing left in his life, Limbs -the monster in the core of the barren island - comforted him with much desired wordless support. Reaper realized it was the very fact that Sam and Tucker were such loyal friends, prevented him from even considering the thought of killing them. The way they supported Phantom in his times of need reminded him too much of his own friends.

He simply couldn't bring himself to be so heartless to execute them while they were so pitiful, defenceless...Blast the damned continued existence of his emotions, and sentiments...

The Grim Reaper sighed with exasperation, running a clawed hand along his ghoulish face. Then he froze. His slitted pupil dilated, scanning every square inch of the Ghost Zone frantically. Frustration quickly built up inside of him when his search turned up futile, fruitless. Danny's mind had dropped off his mental charts, either from traveling out of range or...his brain ceased to eminate thoughts entirely, which was impossible unless he was...dead. But that was highly unlikely, as the Grim Reaper would've felt it from his psychic connection to the boy's mind. He was still alive...just somewhere he couldn't locate him from. Either that, or someone was blocking his thoughts from being read, thus almost completely shutting Death out from his consciousness. But even then, he should get a vague reading at the very least. In either case, the boy was gone, vanished into thin ectoplasmic air. Where he went, was the question that needed to be answered. Grim conjured up a red ball of energy into the palm of his hand, small sparks dancing along his fingers. But as the Grim Reaper prepared to teleport himself to where he last sensed his pawn, he felt a skeletal tenacle tap his shoulder, jolting him enough for his control to slip. The energy ball fizzled and died in a flurry of electrical sparks. Reaper turned his head, glaring daggers, demanding an explaination for disrupting his concentration.

The apendage wiggled apprehensivly beside him, appearing to writing in floating ectoplasmic text.

_Captives awake_, the message read, _very loud, demand to know whereabouts_._ Wish you to talk with them?_

Death grunted in acknowledgement, and the tendril retreated back into the charred soil, resurfacing with the black barred cage in it's rotting grasp. Within the containment device, Sam and Tucker were wide awake and yelling quite loudly in Death's general direction. The Lord of the Dead wished he could plug his ears, but that became impossible when he mutated into a skeleton, and his ears decayed off the side of his head. The mortal's shouting drilled a sharp headache right into the center of his brain, his psychic eye almost bursting from the amount of powerful thoughts swirling in their minds. He gritted his fangs, body tensing almost convulsingly. The two humans saw the Grim Reaper aggitatedly, and absentmindedly crush the arm of his throne into stone splinters with his clawed hand from annoyance, eyes widening, falling silent. His pain gradually ebbed, and he eased back into his throne as far as his horns would allow. Death noted dully that he had just destroyed his precious chair, hardly even caring since he could always simply conjure up another one later. Instead, he looked up at the two humans, skull face twisted with what emotion or appearance, he didn't know at the moment.

"I can hear you just fine from here," Death said dryly, "No need to yell so loudly, young humans." The female glanced at the skeletal reaper, taking in his appearance. Then her eyes sparked, seeming to reconize him.

"You're the Grim Reaper!" Sam exclaimed suddenly, surprising the spook slightly with her outburst, psychic eye still recovering from the yelling rapidfire fest. Like every goth in existence, she had heard, and read of the Grim Reaper, and knew his appearance by heart. He looked almost exactly like he was often described, abeit a little more creepy than she expected. But then again, he was the Lord of the Dead afterall.

The Reaper glanced warrily at the black wearing goth, looking her up and down. Then a rare, genuine grin of pleasure split across his face.

"A child of darkness," Death stated, appearing quite pleased, "Wearers of black, worshipers of the shadows... or as humans call them; Goths. They were always my favorites amoung mortals."

Sam was speechless, but then her eyes narrowed, amethyst colour glinting in the dull, shadowed light. She remembered why she was here. Sam and Tucker were kidnapped by a Danny-look-alike, a clone maybe. And judging how they were now in the company of the Grim Reaper, he had something to do with her friend's disappearance, and sent a doppleganger to capture them. For what purpose, she didn't know at that point.

"Where's Danny?" she demanded, pointing a finger accusingly at the reaper, "The **REAL** Danny?"

"Yeah!" Tucker stuck in, standing beside the girl, "What did you do with him you comicbook reject?"

Death waved a hand disarmingly, dismissing their worries as though they were bothersome insects. He gazed at them angrily, a hint of malice touching his blood red eye.

"Unfortunately, I do not know myself at the moment," he hissed through his fangs, seething at the constant questions all these pitiful teenagers kept spouting off without much heed to the fact he could easily kill them for their ignorance. Honestly, what **WAS** it with these humans and their never ending stream of questions?

His visage hardened at the possibility of his father's hand in Danny's vanishing floated into the forefront of his mind, a fresh wave of loathing setting his consciousness aflame. His eye burned, and he had to use all his self control to wring in the hate, and prevent it from taking him over, push him to recklessness. Eventually, he managed to calm his bubbling fury that seared through his currently non-existant veins, but not before pulverizing the other arm of his throne, reducing it to a crumbled heap of smoldering obsidian stone. He cursed his lack of control, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his hand in front of his gaze. His attention turned back to his two captives, who had a hint of unease touching their eyes.

"Danny Phantom's whereabouts eludes me, young humans," He said, gritting his teeth slightly, "However, I expect he will appear soon to...collect you. Afterall, he would never think to abandon his friends, sentencing them to execution at the hands of a 'comicbook reject'" Reaper used air quotes mockingly, scowling all the while, imitating Tucker's insult. "In the meantime, I humbly suggest you shut your insolent mouths, lest I feed you to my friend, Limbs here. He does so enjoy to devour human flesh while his victim is still alive. Their fear adds flavor." Of course, Limbs did not eat human flesh. Undead creatures required no sustenance to continue existing, especially not from consuming living flesh, as was rumored around the human realm. Humans had over creative imaginations when it came to zombies, or monsters, and even ghosts. It was a small wonder why sterio-types were so commonplace this millenia. But the humans didn't know that, so emursed within their paranoia. The statement was to simply keep the two off his back with their agrivating stream of questions, and demands, as well as to assure him peace while murdering his father and their best friend. Utter bliss.

Reaper had no small satisfaction in seeing a sliver of terror flash in his captives' eyes. He snapped a skeletal finger, and Limbs complied, retracting his appendages and the cage back into the large cavern in the core of Limbo, burrying them beneath the shattered earth. Once the ground ceased trembling, the Grim Reaper glared down at the crumbled remains of his formally awe-inspiring throne with disdain. He shook his horned head, the four ectoplasmic flames beside his face flickering brightly and fizzled out of existence, his face cast into the eerie shadows. Reaper floated off of his destroyed seat, eyeing it like it grew two heads despite it being furniture. His bone ghost tail wisped, propelling him high above the ground, the chains drapped over his body clattering with the movement. He took in the decaying sights of Limbo, the familar environment soothing his troubled mind. If he possessed lungs in his spectral form, he would've taken a relaxing deep breath. Soon all his millenia of planning would come together, and his father would meet his end by Reaper's hands. His vengance for 4.3 billion years of torture would be realized at last. Suddenly, he froze, boney fram going rigid at abrupt psychic feedback slammed into his consciousness with the force of a stampeding mountain, leaving him dazed and disoriented. His crimson eye went beserk involentarily, attempting to locate the source of the reaction. The weakness swiftly disipated when he discovered what had caused the feedback. A slow, knowing grin spread acrossed his skeletal face. Danny was back in the Ghost Zone...Clockwork in tow.

Ghost Zone; Danny and Clockwork, At That Moment

A blue energy crackled, illumiating the random, uninteresting space of the swirling green void. The atmosphere thickened, making the entire area appear as though it were underwater. Ectoplasm energy cells ignited, hundreds of brilliant mircroscopic explosions detonated like tiny firecrackers. The Ghost Zone rippled, tearing itself usunder, clocks of all shapes and sizes surrounding a specific spot. There was a loud pneumatic pop, and two ghosts appeared out of no where, shimmering phantomly into existence. One was a small, hazmat suit wearing kid with snowy white hair, and glowing green eyes. The other was a purple robed elderly ghost, wearing multiple wrist and pocket watches, clutching a clock-mounted staff in deceitfully frail aged hands. Danny Phantom, and Clockwork.

The two spirits took a moment to get their barings, just having returned from a disorientiating dip in the timestream. Once Danny had recovered significantly from the odd feeling timetravel had induced onto his body, he glanced at Clockwork with fresh eyes. He had learned a great deal from the short trip. Death had never originally been evil, but had been tortured all his life by his own **father**. He had been abandoned on Limbo, a land of death and decay, left with lonelyness and pain eating his soul from the inside out, the very energy there tearing his body apart into a live rotting corpse, stripping the flesh from his bones. He grew up believing he was unwanted, an abomination of nature, a freak no one ever wanted, a mistake his father kicked when it was down, one he wouldn't clean up. And it had all been because of Clockwork.

"You're...Death's father...?" It was more of a question than a statement.

The timelord's eyes were sunken and saddened, his usually stoic face riddled with a tidal wave of multiple emotions -none positive.

"It's all my fault," Clockwork spat, seeming to internally kick himself many times without mercy. "It was my fault that he turned out this way. If I had been with him every step of the way, instead of observing his suffering from a distance...maybe then things would have been different."

"Didn't you see this would happen?" Danny questioned, "You're the Master of Time, shouldn't you have seen this coming?"

Clockwork shook his head. "No...I cannot see the future of the Grim Reaper. In a sense, he too is a timelord. He is unrestricted by time and space, moving freely between the two as he pleases. Besides, he has long ago found a way to prevent me from reading any timestream that involves him. If only I had known..."

Danny sighed internally at Clockwork's dampening mood. He paused for a moment, then patted the timelord akwardly on the shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault, Clockwork." he said, "You honestly didn't know. But why did you put him in Limbo in the first place?"

The timelord didn't seem to notice Danny's comforting pat, eyes distant as if emursed in painful memories.

"It was the Observents. They sensed that instability was falling over the planet Earth, exactly 4.3 billion years ago." he explained to the younger spook, "Whenever someone dies, if their spirits aren't laid to rest, their souls become chained to the physical world, wandering in eternal torment. With Earth entirely ruled by life, and no one to counteract the life to keep the souls under control, the angered spirits roamed freely through the world, treatening to tear the very planet apart. A guardian of the dead was needed to maintain the balance, and restore stability."

Clockwork's fists clenched as he continued bitterly, "They chose my son to be the Lord of the Dead, forced me to abandon him to his fate on Limbo for all eternity. It was years before I actually found him again, as Limbo continueously shifts between worlds. But he was already so different. A tortured boy was what I saw, believing his own father had put him through suffering beyond measure. All I could think was what an abomination would force this upon a father? To order him to...metaphorically murder his own son... But I was a fool not to see the true change. He was obsessed with power, obtaining it, believing it to be the reason why I was kind to him during my stay there. I didn't realize my error until it was too late to correct it."

Danny was beginning to sort of understand where Clockwork was coming from. Death seemed to have plenty of reason to believe his father was the one who tormented him, and he didn't really blame him, but Clockwork was innocent of any and all accusations Reaper could enforce. Clockwork had never wished for his son to suffer, no father ever does, but the Observents had heartlessly forced him to. It seemed a bit out of character to the halfa, but he didn't doubt it for a second. The Observents cared little for others, far more concerned with their own hides, perfering to get someone else to do their dirty work for them. And Death had paid for their heartlessness a thousand fold and more. To think he would have to confront this guy for a simply misdirected quest for revenge against the wrong person...he might even have to...

No, Danny thought firmly, he would never kill, even if the world were at stake. He would just have to find some way to avoid that option. Besides, it was impossible to kill a ghost...right? Then the hero noticed the dark shadow looming over Clockwork, a single red eye peering evilly from the darkness.

"Clockwork!" he warned, but it was already far too late. The darkness pounced on the timelord, easily overpowering him despite the elder spook's struggles. Skeletal hands encased Clockwork's hands, and ghost tail in solidified crimson ectoplasm, effectively reducing the Master of Time, to the Masterly Trapped. The shadows hardened into physical form, the midnight black robed Lord of Death materializing into existence, horrific skull face cracked with a sinister, triumphent grin that seemed to radiate a cruel glee. Then his single crimson eye flickered, and a frown pulled at his jaw.

"Filling the boy's head with lies, are we father?" Reaper hissed calmly, tongue flickering through barred fangs, red eye locked on Danny. "I never though you'd stoop as low to wrongly influence a mere child to flock to you standered of false victimization. Honestly, what a pathetic attempt to induce empathy. If you're going to make up a tall tale, at least make it believable."

Apparently the Reaper had read Danny's mind, heard the story Clockwork told him. And he didn't believe it one bit, so emursed within his bitterness. That, or he refursed to acknowledge the truth. But perhaps if the halfa could convince him, make him understand. Maybe then he could avoid an unnessasary battle. Death siezed Clockwork's timestaff. Grinning evilly, he charged an energy blast within his hands, and the clock-mounted staff imploded in a flurry wood chips, sparks, and mechanical parts.

"Your time is up, father." the Grim Reaper sneered.

Reaper hoisted Clockwork into the air by the collar of his hood, claws digging painfully into his pale ghost-flesh. With his other hand, the Lord of the Dead tore the obsidian key from it's chain which hung around the timelord's neck. As the artifact touched Death's hand, the whole area seemed to darken, eerie shadows converging upon the three ghosts. Reaper examined his prize, a manical smirk dancing across his skull face.

"Centuries of searching have now paid off," he said, malice and strange glee underlying his tone, "Finally, my dream of vengence for years of torture will be assured!"

Seeing there was immediant danger, Phantom tossed the idea of trying to convince him of the truth out the mental window, instead conjuring a pusling green ball into his hand. He blasted it at Death, nailing the preoccupided spook between the shoulder blades. Reaper hissed sharply, the back of his cloak smoking slightly from the attack. He whirled around to face Phantom, still holding Clockwork in an iron grip.

Death cast Danny a withering glare, tongue lashing angrily, animalistic snarl bubbling in his non-existant throat. Apparently, even though Reaper was death itself, and an ancient ghost of well-known might, he could still be hurt. But at that point, he appeared more furious than in pain. Reaper paused, mentally taking a deep breath. The rage that seared his blood subsided, replaced by dull annoyance. Clearly, this boy would interfere with his plans, however he didn't feel like killing Phantom just yet. Murdering Clockwork was his priority at that moment. If the ghostchild was going to prevent him from doing so, perhaps the best course of action was to take his vengence obtaining elsewhere, where the boy couldn't get to until it was too late for Reaper's father.

Death formed a sparking crimson ectoplasmic sphere in his palm, retaining his firm grip on his father, looking him directly in the eye. He saw fear, sadness and regret swim within their red depths, but that only raised his growing irritation. Reaper glanced back at Danny, scowl deepening as he heard the haunted whispers of thoughts swirling within his mind, the story Clockwork weaved etched in his consciousness.

Was it the truth? he found himself wondering, Was his thrist for vengence aimed at the wrong person?

He shook his horned head, attempting to clear his mind of the troublesome thoughts.

"I'll be taking our little family fued elsewhere, boy." Death spat, "Seeing as you wont keep your irritating nose out of other people's business."

Danny's eyes widened slightly, moving to stop the revenge-driven spook. But it was already too late. The red energy ord expanded, shrouding Reaper and his captive in a dome of crimson ectoplasm. The halfa hit the dome, and bounced right off with a surprised grunt. Then the dome started to shrink, shriveling in size until the was a loud pneumatic pop. The energy disipated, and Reaper and Clockwork vanished from sight.

Danny internally kicked himself. Clockwork was kidnapped by a crazed spook driven by misdirected thrist for vengence, and he wasn't able to stop him. Where did Reaper take him? Limbo probably, if he could hazard a guess. Afterall, what better place to take revenge on someone, then where it all began? But the real question was, how in the heck was Danny going to get there in time to save the timelord?

Ghost Zone, Grim Reaper's Lair; Limbo Ten Minutes Later.

Clockwork lay on his side, hands and ghost tail still encased within solidified crimson ectoplasm. Limbo remained as dark and forboading as he last remember it to be, dampening his mood with it's gloomy atmosphere. He couldn't help but feel he deserved this in a sense. Afterall, he hadn't rejected the Observents command to abandon his son to suffering, but acted like a loyal dog at their beckon call. Now he was paying for it, his son planning to obtain the power which he would use to murder his own father in cold blood, while he lay helpless to do anything about it. His son was floating several feet from him, appearing almost entranced by the sight of the obsidian key in his grasp.

With a flick of his wrist, two skeletal tentacles rose from the earth, intertwining and morphing into his black-bladed Death Scythe. The weapon hovered for a moment, then flung itself into Death's grasp. Reaper ran his hand up and down the length of the blade, appearing to contemplate something. The scowl escalating on his face reformed into a crazed grin. Death lifted the obsidian key, placing it in the lock imbented in his Death Scythe's shaft. He twisted it in the lock, and there was a loud echoing clink. Time seemed to flow at a snail's pace. The atmosphere dampened, growing thick like sap. Shadows converged on the midnight black robed reaper, entangling him in darkness. Reaper eminated an eerie red glow, dull and flickering, gradually growing brighter, but the colour darkening to deep purple. Pain racked his body, bones hissing as steam ventilated from his marrow and ectoplasm. His core pulsed hard within his ribcage, throbbing agonizingly against his chest, glowing dimly. Death's psychic eye felt like it would implode as it expanded in it's socket, enlarging itself to acommodate the new tidal wave of power coursing through his mind. Images and memories that were not his own flickered to life in his consciousness, his brain feeling like mush from the overload of thoughts his eye registered.

Clockwork watched sadly as Reaper's body shuddered and convulsed, sparks of ectoplasmic energy crackling from his body. Reaper's Death Scythe disolved into ebony ectoplasmic goo, worming up his bone arm, and slithering into Death's empty eye sockets. The Grim Reaper's body enlarged, expanding twice its normal size, becoming a intimidating giant, claws extending in hook-like curves, fangs sprouting, enlongating. Reaper's horns curved upwards, a second set bursting forth from his skull. Skeletal wings erupted from his spinal column, opening raggad and torn leathery membranes, bits of pale flesh clinging to pristine white bone. Darkness enveloped his form, drapping over his molten, reforming structure, crimson flames flickering to life within his formally empty eye sockets. Black tendrils attached themselves to his back, fusing, ends morphing into fanged maws.

The pain was almost unbarable, but it gradually ebbed, replaced by the electric hum of power coursing through his bones. The transformation was complete, Death now in the form of an undead abomination, shadows oozing from his body like a viscous slime. He threw his head back, fanged jaws parting to let forth an eerie, inhuman shriek that stirred primal fear within the recesses of Clockwork's mind. The very ground of Limbo trembled violently, black forks of lightning zig-zagging from the darkening sky. Death's shoulders sagged, his head falling back down, eyes piercing his father's very core. Reaper looked over his new body, before his flame eyes flickered back to Clockwork. A toothy grin cracked across his face.

"You remember this form well, father." Reaper hissed, towering over the timelord with his gargantuan body, "You must recall what this body is capable of...you are doomed, and you know it."

"Why bother with this?" Clockwork grunted, shifting his position on the ground, "I am helpless as it is. I wouldn't be able to stop you...so why turn yourself into a monster in order to kill me?"

"You've been trying to keep me from this power for millenia," Death noted, tapping a head-sized claw on the side of his skull face, as if bored with explaining himself, "I want the last thing you to see is me as a 'monster', to suffer knowing that this could've all been avoided had you played your cards a tad smarter. Besides, I require this power to destroy you absolutly, as ancient ghost like you and me are much harder to 'kill' than normal spirits."

The Grim Reaper used two claw tips to hoist Clockwork effortlessly into the air by the collar of his robes, raising him until he was eye-level with Death, digging his talons tauntingly into his flesh.

"Then again...all it takes is one blast to the core to finish even the most powerful of ghosts...But I want you to suffer as I did, **father**!" Death parted his maw, a dark energy seeping from his teeth, ectoplasmic energy gathering in the back of his non-existent throat. But before he could unleash the blast, and vaporize Clockwork's lower body into specks of spectral dust, an ungodly sound assulted his mind, sending small slivers of agony sparking through his brain. Millions of thoughts beat tattoes against the inside of his skull, his psychic eye whipping into a frenzy. Death bellowed in outrage, not pain, but dropped Clockwork in favor of slashing around at the source of the attack. His claws raked nothing but air, the assulter already having moved out of his range. Reaper whirled about, facing the pathetic wretch that dared to attack him while he was distracted. He instantly reconized the white hair boy in the insigna baring hazmat suit through the red haze of his rage.

"Come and get me, bone-head!" Danny Phantom called from above him, making a 'bring it' motion with his hands. Death paused, indecision panging in his mind as his face twisted into a cracking grimace, looking back and forth between the prone body of his father, and the insolent young spook that had attacked in such cowardly means. Should he finish off his father, then the boy, or should he kill Phantom first and leave Clockwork for later? Clockwork's death was best savoured, slow...he couldn't do so if he had a puny gnat pestering him for the entirety of it. That decided, he spred his rotting wings, launching his bulk at the smaller spook with surprising speed, considering his new size.

Danny's eyes widened slightly when he saw the enormus skeletal monster speeding at him, gigantic bone wings spread wide, mouth open revealing rows of sword sized teeth. The spook immediantly turned intangible, letting the creature pass right through him, cutting it uncomfortably close. But as he turned physical again to blast it in the back with an ectoplasmic energy ray, Death turned, launching shadowy, mawed tendrils at him. The tentacles wrapped around his body, sinking needle sharp fangs into his pale flesh. It didn't hurt as much as you'd expect it would, but he still winced in pain. The appendages vanished the instant before Death slammed him into the earth with his bone ghost tail, using it much like a whip. The dirt cracked beneath Danny, but the spongy-like surface cushioned his fall.

Phantom saw Clockwork laying on his back, limbs still encased in solidified ectoplasm. He would need help to take Death down. Danny charged a blast in his palm, launching it at the timelord's restraints. The ray cracked the crystallized energy in spider-web patterns, but the stone didn't yield its hold. He had no time to charge a second attack, as Death was already upon him. The Death God wrapped shadow tentacles around Danny's neck, lifting him thrashing into the air, cutting off his oxygen. The halfa stuggled, his lungs screaming for air, his thoughts becoming sluggish, primal terror pumping adrenaline through his veins.

"Weakling," Death hissed in a voice that resonated eerily, "You will die for your insolence, then your friends...and last but not least, you Clockwork." The Death God cast a soul-shriveling glare at the body of his father. The timelord had pulled himself into a sitting position, form shifting into his adult shape. The restraints reformed with his transformation.

"Reaper, leave the mortals be," he said, "It's me you want!"

Death moved his wings lazily, appearing bored. Danny's thrashing grew weaker, but an idea formed in his oxygen deprived mind.

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands, father," Reaper spat, contempt underlying his tone and burned in his flame eyes. "I will end your pathetic life soon enough...I humbly beseech you to shut your miserable mouth, and-"

His speech was cut off as a stangled shriek of pain rippled past his mouth. His psychic eye throbbed in his skull, pain zig-zagging through it like a thousand tiny explosions, threatening to burst as a massive mental feedback assulted his consciousness. Billions of images and thoughts beat against the inside of his skull, intense agony flaring in his brain. With his fading consciousness, Danny continued to think of everything that had ever happened to him since becoming part ghost, considering every image and memories as loudly as he could. It had been a risky stratagy, relying solely on the possibility that Death's psychic powers had been amplified, and were sensitive to even the most guarded of thoughts. He could only assume that thinking of so many things as he could extremely piercingly, must emphatically be agonizing to Reaper's phyche. As he had hoped, the shadowy tendrils evaporated with a deafening screech, letting Danny fall to the ground on his hands and knees. The halfa gasped, intaking large gulps of oxygen, pumping it through his brain.

Death writhed in pain, body convulsing spasmically, back arching. The Death God howled with rage, his body starting to shrink in size. His enormus bulk deminished until he was only a head taller than Clockwork, but his overall appearence remained unchanged. Danny looked up, ectoplasmic eyes wide. The pain in Reaper's brain ebbed, his fury causing black electric sparks to dance between his jaws, neon green tongue lashing. He launched at Danny, spinning around to slam him hard in the chest with his ghost tail. Danny recovered quickly, and only just managed to avoid getting his eyes gourged out by Death's razor sharp talons. Pain seared through his shoulder as the claws slashed through his hazmat suit and flesh, as easily as a hot knife through butter. The halfa leaped out of Death's range, a mixture of blood and green ectoplasm oozing freely from his shoulder wound. He used his other hand in an attempt to starch the blood flow, white glove swiftly becoming stained tainted crimson.

Reaper stared at the blood on his talons, appearing almost disturbed by the sight of it. The Grim Reaper remained entranced by it for only a brief moment, before snapping back to reality. He glared at Danny, flame eyes smoldering intensely, face cast in sinister shadows, black mawed tendrils wisping around him. Death aimed a single blackened claw at the halfa, dark energy converging at it's tip. Ebony ectoplasm gathered in a crackling sphere, eerie light eminating from it, purple forks of electricity sparks wiggling through his hand. Phantom tried to move, but skeletal tentacles burst from the soil to wrap around his body, rendering him immobile, unable to dodge the attack that he morbidly knew would kill him.

Clockwork's pure red eyes were wide, knowing he had to do something to save the boy. The timelord thrashed frantically, putting all his effort towards breaking his restriants. It took a few painful corepulses, but he managed to shatter the encasing on his ghost tail that had been fractured by Danny's attack. Having no time to think of freeing his hands, he launched towards the halfa just as Death unleashed his energy blast. Time seemed to slow as the blast sped at Danny. But just as the energy was about to pierce through his skull, there was a flicker of purple as Clockwork flung himself in the attacks path, protecting Danny by using his own body as a meat shield. Phantom's eyes widened as the blast pierced Clockwork's ghostly flesh full in the chest. Torn shreds of the timelord's robes and droplets of blue ectoplasm flew through the air, the smell of singed flesh clung to the area.

Time started anew.

Clockwork remained upright for a brief moment, before his nervelessly numb body slumped onto the ground, a small pool of ghost-blood spreading underneath him. Danny's mouth went dry, eyes wide with horror, staring at the timelord's prone form. Clockwork...had saved him...why? Danny looked to Death, glare boring holes into the skeletal monster's skull, anger bubbling. But that rage was quickly dulled when he saw the expression on the Death God's face. Reaper mouth was ajar, red eye wide, and twisting in its socket in a beserk frenzy, tearing out the stitches that kept it forever open. Glowing black ectoplasm dribbled from the psychic eye. Intense pain rippled through his skull, but his consious mind was deaf to it. His father had saved the boy...sacrificed his own life for his... why?

Death knew he should be enjoying the sight of Clockwork's afterlifeblood pooling out of his body...but he wasn't. Somehow, it just wasn't as satisfying as he had always dreamed it would be. Quite the opposite in fact. Reaper's body was frozen stiff, unable to pry his gaze from the body of his father, horror escalating within him. His father...

Death slowly moved towards the prone body of his father until he was looming over it. A tidal wave of unfamilar emotions raged through his system, making him feel numb all over. Reaper fell to the ground, bent over Clockwork like a mourner. He looked at his own, trembling hands, residual energy from his previous attack still writhing in his palm.

'I killed my father with these hands,' he thought to himself, clenching the skeletal talons into fists. Death turned the body of his father over, looking over the wound that he had inflicted on him. Remorse prickled his soul. Right beside the core, the hole 3 inches across. No ghost, not even the Master of Time could survive a wound like that. But as his gaze wandered, his eye met Clockwork's. The pure red eyes were clear, but their glow ebbing, a soft smile tucking at his blue lips. The timelord still lived...for the moment. But as Death stared into his father's eyes, his own crimson eye picked up his dying thoughts. Reaper flinched slightly as his mind was emursed within Clockwork's memories.

_Clockwork floated in the center of a large, pristen room. All around him were a multitude of pewf-like longbenches, where black-capped singled eyed green ghosts sat. On the ceiling hung several moniters which showed the faces of the Observent Council. The Observents whispered amoungst themselves, probably discussing the matter the Council had called Clockwork upon for. The timelord distrusted the one-eyes spooks, holding them within a small level of disdain for their snide attitudes, and constant pestering. He had much more importent things to deal with then to listen to the bothersome ghosts jabber on about things he already knew. Clockwork had to return to his tower as soon as possible. He had to look after his son, Reaper. The last time he had left the curious boy alone at the tower, he had accidently fell into the timelord's portal, causing him to be lost in the timestream until Clockwork had finally managed to find him. The time before that, he had tampered with his time medallions and broke a great many of them. And the time before that...well, you get the point. Reaper was a trouble maker, but he never intended any harm. Had Clockwork been forwarned about this conclave meeting, he would've sent his son to play with his friend Undergrowth for the day. That way, at least he wouldn't be causing mayhem with the delicate devices he kept at the tower._

_ But alas, the Observents cared little for Clockwork's family life, and hastily summoned him with minimal warning. For what purpose, he didn't know yet. However, he did know he would find out soon enough. The speaker -an Observent that looked identically to every other bloody one of them in the room - hovered closer to Clockwork, cloak bellowing behind him._

_ "Clockwork, I'm sure you've noticed the instability that has befallen the planet Earth."_

_ "Yes," Clockwork replied simply, form shifting to his elder shape. He stroked his ridiculously long white beard thoughtfully. "Restless spirits are running amuck on the planet, threatening to pull the very fabric of the world apart." A scowl formed on his usually stoic face, knowing the Observents wanted something from him. "What do you want me to do about it?"_

_ "The reason for there being so many enraged souls on the puny planet, is because there is nothing to keep them under control, and lay them to the rest." the speaker gradually explained in such a superior tone, Clockwork had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "In other words; A keeper of the dead is needed. Someone to restore and maintain the balance of life and death." The green ghost looked the timelord in the eyes. "The reason why we've called you here, Clockwork, is because the Observent Concil has chosen your son to be the Lord of the Dead."_

_ Clockwork's core almost stopped pulsing, his ectoplasm running colder than usual, his face turning a pastey blue. His own son was to be the Lord of the Dead? He was just a boy!_

_ "You are commanded to place young Reaper on the dead island known as Limbo," continued the speaker, hardly noticing Clockwork's unusual dumbfounded expression. "There, your son will bare the mantle and duties of reaping the souls of the dying, and guiding restless souls to peace. Under no circumstances will you be permitted to deny or interfere with the boy's duties. You will be completely cut off from Reaper for all eternity."_

_ Clockwork clenched his hands into fists, outrage bubbling in his veins. They would command him to abandon his only son for all time? What an abomination would these fools must be to expect a father to do such a thing! The speaker took note of the fact Clockwork was visibly trembling from rage, and hurriedly moved further away from the spook._

_ "Consider this for a moment, Clockwork," one of the Observents on the Council spoke, "Would you rather to make this harder on the boy by making us __**force **__him to become the Lord of the Dead, or would you make it easier on him by convincing him to do so willingly?"_

_ The timelord rolled it over in his mind, and finally decided after a few moments of seething. Gritting his teeth, he looked back to the Council members._

_ "Fine," he said grudgingly, glaring daggers at the Observents, "I'll do it." Without waiting for the cocky ghosts' response, he whirled around and stalked out of the room. How was he going to break it to Reaper?_

__

_ It had been over 6 years since the conclave meeting. 6 years since Clockwork had been forced to abandon his only son in the furthest corner of the Ghost Zone. 5 years since the timelord began to tear up the spectral world looking for Reaper, since the island of Limbo was in continuous movement between worlds. 5 minutes ago ...Clockwork had found him._

_ The decaying island of Limbo was in sight of the timelord, hovering just in the distance. Paternal worry drove him towards it like a fly to honey. Questions flew through his mind like a waterfall; Where was his son? Was he alright? How was he?_

_ Clockwork touched down on the charred dirt at the center of the island, red eyes quickly scanning the surrounding area for any signs of his only son. All his gaze saw was death. The sky was gray with streaks of crimson, clouds tinged black with inhuman eyes staring the timelord down. The ground was charred and cracked, yet had an oddly spongy spring to it. Bones littered the area, blackened ruins rising in crumbled heaps all around him. _

_ Movement caught his attention. He turned to see a black robed figure hovering nearby, and hope lept into his chest. But that hope quickly turned to horror as he took in what he assumed to be his son's startling appearence. The boy was now a skeletal creature, a thing of nightmares, with a single blood red eye in the center of his forehead, forever stitched open. Small horns jutted from the back of his skull head, bits of pale rotting flesh still clinging bitterly to his pristine white bones. From his fingers were hooked black claws, sharp and deadly, spiked chains drapped over his shoulders. Clockwork felt instantly that his son's suffering on Limbo was all his fault. He turned away from Reaper, thoughts whirling in his consciousness, one sentence standing out from the rest._

_ '__**What an abomination the Observents were to force this torment upon Clockwork's only son'**_

Present day Reaper felt regret stab at his core with intense pain. The Phantom boy was right; his thrist for revenge was misdirected. He had just killed his father for no reason, other than misplaced bitterness and loathing. Grim cursed himself, slamming his skeletal firsts into the ground, causing all of Limbo to tremble. Sadness, remorse, self-hate, and grief flooded into his mind, stripped away his ancient reasonless yearning for vengence and hate, leaving the boy Reaper once was to mourn his father's near-death.

"Clockwork...Dad..." Reaper studdered, black ectoplasm still pouring from his psychic eye. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." The formally sinister black robed spook collapsed onto Clockwork's chest, body twitching in tearless sobs. The timelord weakly raised a hand, patting the skeletal ghost comfortingly on the shoulder. His red eyes were forgiving, understanding what his son had seen within his mind. Danny remained dumbfounded, still entangled by skeletal tendrils and bleeding from the shoulder, watching the scene unfold.

Clockwork closed his eyes, lacking the strength to keep them open. He could feel his death was near. But Reaper wouldn't have it. **HE** was Lord of the Dead. **HE** would not let his father die after Reaper just learned the truth behind 4.3 billion years of torture.

The Grim Reaper gingerly stuck his hands in Clockwork's wound, making sure his talons did not accelerate the old spook's passing. With all his concentration, he siphoned off his own life-force and power, forcing it from his core, and through his arms. Reaper's hands glowed brilliant blue, tiny sparks of red dancing in vein-like patterns down his skeletal arms and into the horrific wound. More, he thought, I need to give him more! Reaper coerced more of his life energy from his core, applying pressure to force it into his father's dying form. Ectoplasmic sparks cascaded around Clockwork's wound, sinking into his ghost flesh. With all his psychic might, Death mentally tore the pain from his father's consciousness, physically took the injury into himself. Slowly -ever so slowly - the enormus puddle of ghost-blood seemed to gain life of its own, retracting from the ground, crawling eerily up Clockwork's side, retreating back into the injury. Death swiftly removed his hands as the wound hissed pneumetically. Clockwork's core glowed brightly, and his flesh began to knit back together, sealing the wound completely, steam eminating from wound as it healed at an accelerated pace. The healthy sky blue ting returned to Clockwork's face, loosing it's pastey appearence.

But while the timelord's condition improved, the opposite happened to Reaper. The Death God, in order to save Clockwork's life, had used his amplified psychic powers to actually sustain his father by feeding him Reaper's own life-force, and created a link to the timelord, which he used to effectively absorb all of Clockwork's injuries into himself. Black ectoplasm poured steadily from his ribcage, his core pulsing painfully against his chest. A multitude of the ribs on his left side snapped, sending needle sharp signals of agony spiraling into his brain. His body felt numb, and he fell onto his side, next to his father. His red eye blinked for the first time in over four thousand millenia, and he was glad to see the healthy outline of life eminating from Clockwork. This was how he would repay for his wrongs, for his misinterpretion of the timelord's thoughts and reasons for his past suffering.

As Reaper's consciousness faded, he psychically pleaded for Limbs to release the halfa. His undead friend complied readily, retreating back into the ground, only to resurface beside Death. The appendages wriggled, seeming to understand entirely what had happened, patting the wounded spook comfortingly. Reaper smiled genuinely, reassured from his best friend's presssence, vision fading. His last thought before eternal darkness claimed his mind, was whether or not Death himself could actually **die**.

Danny had watched the entire thing, yet he still couldn't believe it. Reaper actually had a change in heart, choosing to miraculously save his father from dying by sacrificing himself. The tentacles guarded the spook's prone body, but allowed the halfa to approch. Danny crouched down, peering at the two still bodies of the blood-related ghosts. Clockwork's eyes fluttered open, and blinked quite a bit, as if confused as to why Danny was looming over him, poking his face. Seeing the spook was awake, Phantom sheepishly retracted his finger. The timelord sat up, clutching his head. Then he seemed to remember what happened, and looked about. His gaze landed on the bloodied skeletal body of his son. His eyes grew sad, but a small smile touched his pale lips.

Seeing Danny's questioning eyes, Clockwork sighed, smile growing wider.

"Reaper will be alright," he explained, "Though the wound might have been enough to kill me...he is not so easily disposed of. He IS Lord of the Dead, afterall. Death himself cannot die."

"He saved you," Danny said, "I didn't expect him to do that."

"I had a feeling he would," Clockwork stated, form shifting to his elder shape, "Every son loves his father, just like every father loves his son. This mutual affection holds true to every family, even for ghosts."

"What now?" Danny asked, "Reaper's been technically defeated. Where's Sam and Tucker?"

Clockwork gazed at Danny, the turned to the tentacles that were looming over Death.

"Limbs...correct?" Clockwork asked, "I believe you are keeping the boy's friends somewhere. Would you please release them?"

The skeletal tendrils wriggled, appearing quite happy with Clockwork. The ground rumbled, and a large crevice split the earth open. Two undead appendages burst from the crack, Sam and Tucker struggling in their rotting grasp. The two thrashed, but stopped when their eyes saw Danny, Clockwork, and the bleeding prone form of the Grim Reaper.

"Woah," Tucker whistled, "What'd we miss, dude?"

A pounding headache prodded Death into awareness. At first he thought it was simply a haunt sensation from his past after-life, but as he plunged into the conscious world, he realized something; He wasn't dead. Death groaned, wanting nothing more than to envelope himself once more in cool, soothing darkness. But apparently, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. He opened his eye, slightly unnerved from the unfamiliarity of the action, since he hadn't done so in millions of years. He blinked slowly, willing the world into focus. Everything was distorted and blurry, making his headache drill even further into his mind. He moved his hand a few inches, and was disturbed when he felt something wet and slimy underneath him. Death bolted upright, and immediantly regret it, searing pain spiking along his chest. Reaper hissed sharply, but pulled his hands in front of his vision. The palms were sticky will black ectoplasm...his blood. His memory came back in a flash. He had made the ultimate sacrifice to save his father from death...but somehow he survived a fatal wound. His core felt fine, exellent in fact. If he hadn't known better, he would have never guessed he had been injured mortally, something that should have kill a ghost no matter what power he had.

Death looked around him, adapting to the ability of blinking. Limbo felt far more welcoming then it had in millenia, the dark cloud of gloom that had hung over it disipated. It was almost like Limbo itself was tied to his very soul, which could be a possibility, all things considered. When his thrist for revenge had vanished, the island seemed to have altered positively as well. A shadow fell over Reaper, startling him slightly. He turned his head, gazing up at the figure looming over him. A grin cracked along his face.

"Father!"

Clockwork smiled down at him, red eyes glinting with life. The purple robed specter extended a hand down, offering to help his one and only son out of the puddle of his own blood.

"Come, my son," he said, "We have much catching up to do."

Death's grin widened, true happiness bouncing in his core. After all his past years of suffering, this was a welcomed change. Misunderstandings had caused him to hate his father...but ever since he learned the truth, he simply didn't have any reason to loath him like he once did. Clockwork had been trying to show Reaper the truth for years, but he had turned a deaf decayed ear to it, refusing to simply lay down his ancient, meaningless rage. Perhaps, Danny Phantom **HAD** been important to his future, like Clockwork had claimed 5 days ago when the boy lay dying. Without the halfa, things surely wouldn't have ended the way they did. Because of him, Reaper was given a second chance. Finally, he and his father could start anew, banish old squabbles and bitterness and wipe the slate clean. He was greatly indebted to Danny, and he would definately repay the favor some day. He reach up a skeletal hand, hesitantly at first. Then he firmly clasped his father's hand, making certain his talons didn't accidently impale the timelord's flesh.

"Yes, father," Reaper stated, letting his father pull him upright, a world of new bright possibilites opening up before him, "Yes we do."

_**THE END**_

**Aurthor's Notes**

**WoOoOOOoO! It is DONE! Sorry about the ending...it was kinda akward for me. Just FYI, Danny, Tucker and Sam had already left through the Grim Reaper's ghost portal before Reaper woke up. I was freaking AMAZED when I saw this chapter with like three times the size of the other ones. I wrote it all in one sitting too. My sleep cycle is permanatly ruined by now. Honestly, I've been staying up to almost 2 in the morning every day for the past week because of this story. I just can't seem to get it out of my head. Well, I'm glad to say that it's been great fun typing up this story. It's the first one I have ever finished, so i'm really happy right now. Thank you all for reading this story. I just checked, and the whole story combined is like... 209 KB on my computer. Wow, eh? Long as heck. This chapter is 57KB, while all the others are 25 and below. I simply couldn't split this chapter in parts. It would interfere with the flow of the story, in my eyes at least. I thank Dragonlover247, for helping me plan out possibilites for the climax/ main plot twist. We basically sat in my basement, and pinged ideas off eachother for a halfhour. I knew for a fact that the Grim Reaper COULDN'T physically die, so killing him was out of the metalphorical window. It was stupid to allow him to be trapped in Danny's Fenton Thermos like every other villain, so I decided to make him a 'villain turns good' thing. Also, it was importent that there be some type of father-son moment somewhere, which in Death learns the truth. This idea gradually developed into the situation where Death unintentionally mortally wounds his father when he throws himself in the way of an attack meant for Danny. I've probably mutated Clockwork's character to suit the plot better, and thrown his personality out of wack, but at least it worked. Thanks again to all the reviewers. Follow my art rampage on DeviantArt. I go under the profile username midnightreader. *Munches on a carrot* That's all folks!**


End file.
